The Bitter Taste of Revenge
by criminalxxxmindsxxxfreak
Summary: Patrick Jane knows all about the Revenge Business. Dangerous, unhealthy. When a killer decides to enact his own twisted game of bloody revenge against Jane things get messy. But Jane and the team soon learn there is more to this than meets the eye.
1. Prologue

**A/N: I'm take another tentative step forward into "The Mentalist" fandom here… this is my first multi-chapter fic for the show and I certainly hope I did everyone justice!**

**It's set in Season 2 because I only recently became unhealthily obsessed and haven't finished the 3****rd**** season yet.**

**If any of you haven't ever read my work before (I've written a lot of fics for "Criminal Minds" and a few crossovers as well) I shall warn you now that I am a fan of whump and angst BIG TIME. Especially with the characters that I love (like… I don't know… Patrick Jane?)**

**So *takes deep breath* I guess it's now or never… *gulps***

**PLEASE REVIEW! I adore feedback more than anything else because I, sadly, have no social life ;)**

_**~~/~~**_

_**The Bitter Taste of Revenge**_

_**~~/~~**_

_**Prologue**_

_**~~/~~**_

The night air was cold as they sat, crouched down, staring toward the house that held one of their own. Captive. Possibly injured. Jane looked up at the dark night sky as Grace and Cho moved closer, their eyes never wavering from the faint, warm glow of a lamp light coming from the living room window. The stars seemed especially dim that night, the moon hung low and dark in the sky. As if even they were aware of the grim situation that the agents were currently facing.

Jane turned his eyes away and looked toward the house again, looming before them. It didn't look very impressive. Small, quaint, family looking house. It was hard to imagine that a brutal killer really resided inside. "I want to go in." Jane said abruptly, shattering the still, ominous silence with his voice.

Rigsby turned back to stare at him, shaking his head. "No way." He said. "You're not an agent, Jane. We can't let you go in there and get yourself hurt."

"Look, this is happening because of me." He insisted. "Let me go in."

"He's armed." Cho's voice was the one he heard next, though the man didn't turn around, keeping his eyes keenly focused on the house ahead. "You don't carry a gun. It's dangerous and it's against regulations."

"I didn't hear a 'no' in there."

"No." Cho said flatly, shaking his head. "We can't let you go in."

"But I-"

Van Pelt turned and put a hand on his shoulder. An unexpected gesture of comfort that he honestly wasn't all that used to. "Jane, it's going to be fine. We'll go in and we'll get Lisbon back. I promise."

For some reason, her words were of no comfort to him and he had a feeling if she'd heard Kristina's last warning before they left, she certainly wouldn't be saying everything would be alright, not with her foolish belief in the woman's 'psychic abilities'.

He looked back at the house, guilt he hadn't felt in a long, long time eating away at his stomach. He hadn't felt so responsible for another person's pain since… since his wife and daughter had been murdered. But there was no denying that this was his fault and if Lisbon was hurt, if she was killed… he wouldn't be able to forgive himself.

He watched helplessly as the three agents followed the entry team closer to the door and left him standing there, feeling useless. He looked around with a frown on his face, wondering what he could do if they weren't going to let him go in. He could hear their faint whispers and murmurs as they neared the house and split up, one team going around back, the other around the front. Now it was simply a matter of time before they went in and found Lisbon. Safe and alive. Right?

He paced restlessly, every few seconds glancing back toward the house and wondering what was happening, what was going on inside that oddly quiet little house. On his third pass, he spotted a flicker. Just the faintest, almost intangible movement of shadow within shadow, but when he looked closer, he saw the silhouette of a man, roughly six feet tall, moving toward the small tool shed. He blinked. Of course. They hadn't even thought to check the tool shed.

He glanced back toward the agents about to break down the front door of the house and mentally debated about whether or not he should call out to them. Best not to, he decided. The man could hear him and then it was all over. Instead, he cautiously made his way to the shed, frowning. He looked inside a tiny window and spotted a bare bulb hanging from the ceiling, but saw no sign of the man he'd spotted. What he did see, however, caused his heart to beat a little faster in his chest.

Lisbon. Tied to a chair, a gag in her mouth, a bloody wound on the side of her head. But she was alive. At least she was alive.

He didn't even think through what he did next, he simply acted, immediately prying open the door and rushing inside. The second Lisbon's eyes fell on him they widened and she started trying to say something into the gag around her lips.

"It's alright, Lisbon, don't worry." Jane hurried to her side, fumbling with the ropes on her arms. "Cho, Rigsby and Van Pelt are all here. We'll have you out of here soon."

She practically screamed into the gag, shaking her head furiously as his fingers finally slipped the knot free from her arms. She wrenched her hands forward and tore the gag away.

"Jane, are you insane!" She screamed. "Why did you come in here alone? Where are the others?"

"You're welcome." Jane replied, offering her a smile that soon disappeared at the look on her face.

"We need to get out of here, right now."

"Well, of course I-"

She stood and grabbed his arm. "I mean right now, Jane. It's a trap, damn it! Let's go –"

But it was too late. The two of them turned at the sudden sound of the door shutting and saw a tall man, wearing a ski mask and pointing a gun at them.

"Mr. Jane," the man drawled, his voice calm and predatory. Jane could almost see a sick, delightful smile spread across the man's face underneath the mask. "I knew you'd show up. I knew you couldn't resist coming to her rescue."

Neither of them said anything, not entirely sure what to say at the moment.

The man waved his gun, "Step away from Agent Lisbon please, Mr. Jane."

Jane found it odd that he would sound so polite considering he was currently pointing a gun at them, but he complied, taking a step away from the agent at his side.

"What's this about?" Jane asked, frowning at the man.

The man laughed, "You'll find out soon enough." He said simply, lifting the gun and aiming at the blond man.

Jane's hands instinctively lifted, his eyes darting to the small window, the house barely visible from this distance. He desperately hoped that they would soon realize there was no one in the house and decide to look elsewhere. He swallowed when he heard the sound of the safety being clicked off.

"If you kill me now, how will I ever know why it happened?"

Another laugh. The man was starting to unsettle Jane and he glanced to Lisbon, whose eyes were riveted to the gun, probably trying to calculate their chances of taking him down before he got off a shot. From where Jane was standing, those odds didn't look good.

"Who said anything about killing you now?" the man asked.

Jane swallowed and raised a brow at the man, trying his very best to remain calm. "No? Then what exactly is your plan?"

There was a short pause while the man studied him carefully, "…This." He said simply. Jane barely had a chance to react when he saw the man's finger squeeze the trigger and the loud BANG of the gun jerked his body back in surprise.

It happened too fast. Too terribly fast. Lisbon saw it coming, she screamed, "NO!" and the next thing Jane knew, he was on the ground and Lisbon was screaming. There was so much blood, but there was no pain. Shouldn't there have been pain if he'd been shot?

A low moan escaped Lisbon's lips and he realized, in horror, that she had taken the shot. Oh no. He shifted his body, forgetting completely about the man with the gun and turning her around, trying to decipher the source of the wound, blood pooling around their bodies, staining his hands where he touched her. His voice cracked as he spoke, staring into her glassy eyes.

"Lisbon?"

She tried to say something, but he had no idea what, staring fearfully into her eyes, letting down his shield of indifference more than he ever had.

He gripped her hand as his eyes keenly searched her for the bullet hole, desperately fighting not to cry. Crying would not help.

Kristina's last words to him before he'd gotten onto the elevator rang piercingly loud in his ears.

_"You shouldn't go, Patrick. I have a bad feeling. It's not going to end well."_

And before he could even consider how horrifyingly right she had been, blinding pain erupted at the back of his skull and his world went black.

**~~/~~**

**A/N 2: So, there's the prologue. I know, I was incredibly cruel, but it's really just a teaser to see if anyone's interested. Please let me know what you think!**

**I hope everyone is in-character!**

**And I should mention right now: I NEVER write character death. Ever. You'll never see it from me, I refuse to kill my favorite characters, so no worries there.**

**Opinions, comments and criticism are always welcome! **


	2. Chapter One

**A/N: *Grins* Thanks so much to all of those people who kindly reviewed and/or added this to alert and favorites! It means a lot to me :) I'm glad you guys like it so far…**

**And now, onto chapter one… I should probably have mentioned this before, but there will be violence in this story… a bit late huh? LOL**

**Oh, and I always update every day or every other day at the latest. When life gets in the way, it may take a week but never longer unless my internet decides to shut off.**

**So, read and (hopefully) enjoy! Let me know what you think! Please review!**

_**~~/~~**_

_**Chapter One**_

_**~~/~~**_

Blistering heat beat down from the sun above Sacramento as Teresa Lisbon and her team stepped out of their vehicles and squinted against the bright light. Twenty feet in front of them lay the body of a young woman.

She was on her back, her blond hair splayed around her face, clumps of dirt and dried blood soiling its pretty color. Her eyes were wide open, staring up at the sky emptily, her throat had been gasped open; more stab wounds littered her upper torso and stomach. Her long legs were crumpled and resting crookedly against the ground and her arms were haphazardly strewn away from her body, fists clenched tight.

Van Pelt grimaced as she took in the sight of the girl. It was one of the more gruesome scene's she'd ever come upon, second only to Red John's murders. "Who's the victim?" Rigsby asked, glancing around at the local officers who were trying to keep bystanders with morbid curiosities out of the way.

"Alicia Jerold." Lisbon answered, "Local heiress. Her father, Jonathan Jerold is the CEO and founder of WireTech Electronics. She just turned eighteen."

"You the CBI?" One of the officers asked, walking up to the agents. "Detective Felps." He introduced himself, holding out his hand for her to shake.

Lisbon nodded and took the hand he offered briefly.

"Agent Lisbon," She said, flashing her badge. "These are agents Rigsby, Cho and Van Pelt. And, our consultant, Patrick Jane." She motioned lastly to the blond man standing a little farther back, staring at the body.

"Oh yeah," Detective Felps nodded. "The psychic."

Jane turned to look at him finally, smiling. "I'm not a psychic."

"No?"

"No." Jane assured him. "There's no such thing as psychics."

"Huh," Felps frowned and studied Jane carefully for a moment. "Well, we haven't touched the body. We ID'd her and called it in. Figured this was a case for you guys to handle."

Lisbon nodded, "Has her family been notified?" she asked.

"Yeah, her father is on his way here. I told him you'd probably have some questions for him and he insisted on being here."

Lisbon nodded, "Alright. Anything else?"

"According to her friends, she had a fight with her boyfriend last night at a party. It got pretty nasty and she left his house. They said he followed her out and no one's seen him since."

"Ok, we'll start there. Rigsby –"

"What's she holding in her hand?" Jane suddenly spoke up. Lisbon blinked, looking toward the body to see the man kneeling over her, scrutinizing her torn flesh with careful, keen eyes.

"What?" Detective Felps turned around with a new frown on his face.

"Here," Jane motioned to the girl's right hand, clenched into a fist like the other. "Her fingers were pushed together like this after she was killed, they aren't rigidly formed into this position and if you look closely, you'll see that she's clutching something here…"

"Well I'll be damned," Felps frowned and called a CSI over to take a shot of the hand before carefully removing the paper from between her cold fingers and uncrumpling it. Jane leant closer to him, invading his personal space to read what had been written. As his eyes moved down the page, he felt himself grow a little bit sick.

"Well, I think you can rule the boyfriend out as a suspect." Jane said, looking up at Lisbon with something in his eyes that scared her. Uncertainty and fear. It was a look that so rarely entered the man's face that she knew it had to be something serious, whatever it was.

"What is it?" she moved toward them and reading what was on the paper, feeling a bit sick herself once she had finished.

_"Mr. Jane…_

_I know that this will get your attention. A high profile case like this will fall into the hands of your team, of course._

_Alicia was the first casualty in this game. You claim to be so smart, why don't you see if you can save her little boyfriend, James Castle? We'll see._

_How many people will have to die before you admit that you're nothing more than a charlatan with cheap parlor tricks?_

_By the end of this game, you're going to understand that. You can't play with people's lives and expect to not pay the price. You'll understand, I assure you._

_If you want to save James, you'd better get moving. I'll even tell you where to start looking: the Regalia Bar three blocks from his house._

_Have fun."_

She looked up and stared around the crime scene. "Alright, bag it. I want this dusted for prints immediately. It looks like James is missing and in danger. I want to find out everything we can about these two quickly. Van Pelt, head to James Castle's house, talk to his parents, find out about his relationship with Alicia." She ordered, "Rigsby, you and Cho head to Regalia Bar and see what you can find out. I want security tapes, everything you can find. Fast."

Rigsby and Cho eyed the paper with interest before nodding and heading toward the cars.

"I'm going with them," Jane started to walk to the car with the two agents but Lisbon snatched him back by the arm.

"Oh no, Jane. You're staying with me. We're going to talk to Alicia's father and find out what he knows."

"Come on Lisbon, you read the note. There's nothing here for me to do, he clearly said to start looking at the bar."

"And I said no." Lisbon shook her head. "For all we know, James is dead and this is a trap to get you. Rigsby and Cho will check it out, you go back later if it's safe."

"James is running out of time, Lisbon! I have to be there now." Jane insisted.

"No. You're staying here, Jane. We're going to interview the father and find out what he knows. Then we're going to talk to their friends. Maybe they saw something."

"Lisbon, I'm telling you, they didn't see anything and the father won't know anything. Our best chance is that bar."

"Which Rigsby and Cho are checking out." Lisbon said, starting to get annoyed with the man. "I want you here, Jane. That's final."

"But this was directed at me! He said specifically that I should start looking at the bar."

"The letter just says 'you' and he mentioned the team earlier. And it doesn't matter either way because I said you're staying and that means you're staying."

"Lisbon," Jane started to argue again but was cut off by a man behind them gasping.

"Oh my God!"

Lisbon grimaced and turned to see a man in a suit running toward them, a wild look of horror in his eyes as they fell on his daughter's mangled bodied.

_Shit. _She swore mentally. _Who the hell forgot to cover the body?_

She quickly stopped the man from mauling the young girl's still body, "Mr. Jerold, please," she held him back. "I'm Agent Lisbon, CBI."

"My daughter!" he choked.

Jane, for once, didn't say a word. He could see true horror and fear, guilt and anger all scrambling for dominance in the man's eyes. He knew that feeling well and fought against the surge of self-loathing guilt that threatened to close his throat completely.

"Oh God, Alicia!" the man sobbed as Lisbon attempted to lead him away from the body. Trying to calm the man down.

Jane stepped forward after his brief moment to collect himself. "Mr. Jerold," he said, reaching out and placing a hand on his shoulder gently. "There's nothing you can do for your daughter here, but if you'll come with Agent Lisbon and myself and answer our questions, we will find who did this to her, I assure you."

Jerold blinked, tears still burning his eyes and dripping down his face. His dark eyes were hollow, but when they fell on Jane he swallowed and his sobbing finally tapered off. "I want him found." He said, his voice hard. "I want him found and I want him to suffer for this."

Jane met his stare and ignored the prickling feeling of Lisbon's eyes fixed on him. "He will, Mr. Jerold. He will."

_**~~/~~**_

**A/N 2: That was heart-wrenching to write. I hope I got everyone in character once again. And I hope that emotional scene was realistic *winces* I can't imagine going through something that horrible.**

**Well, hope you enjoyed! Next chapter coming soon! Let me know what you think!**

**Please don't forget to review!**


	3. Chapter Two

**A/N: Thanks so much for all of the reviews and alerts and favorites guys! I'm glad you're enjoying the story so far, it's definitely fun to write and I'm only in the beginning stages ;)**

**So, now we find ourselves on the threshold of chapter 2… hope you enjoy!**

**PLEASE REVIEW!**

**~~/~~**

_**Chapter Two**_

_**~~/~~**_

Rigsby and Cho climbed out of the SUV and made their way to the entrance of Regalia Bar, situated on the corner of the street, neon sign handing in the window proclaiming that it was indeed open.

"What do you think that paper said?" Rigsby asked, frowning to himself. He'd been mulling over what had happened back at the crime scene the entire drive over, granted, it hadn't been a very long drive, but it had been quiet. He figured Cho had been thinking about whatever had been on that paper too.

Cho never paused, shrugging without turning to look back at the other man. "I don't know. Obviously, something about Regalia Bar."

"Well, yeah, but did you see Jane's face? And Lisbon? This doesn't look good."

Cho frowned slightly as they pushed the doors open and stepped inside the bar. "When do these cases ever look good?" he asked flatly, turning his eyes toward the other agent for a moment.

Rigsby nodded slowly, "Yeah, true, but… I mean who stuffs a note in a dead girl's hand giving the police a clue where to start looking?"

"Someone who doesn't think he'll get caught." Cho answered immediately.

Rigsby seemed surprised by that answer and conceded to its logic as they approached the bar.

It was fairly empty inside, the rush crowd from Lunch time having already dispersed and traversed back to their usual places of business. "Can we speak to the bartender who was working last night?" Cho asked the man currently working, wiping glasses absently and looking pretty bored with nothing much to do. "Around eleven o'clock?"

The man turned toward them, "Yeah, that's me." He said.

"Do you have a name, sir?" Cho asked.

"Who's askin'?"

Rigsby and Cho pulled out their badges, "CBI, sir. We're investigating a homicide." Rigsby explained.

"CBI? What's that?"

"California Bureau of Investigation," Rigsby sighed. He was honestly tired of people not knowing who they were. Who were they, NCIS for Christ's sake?

"Uh… ok. Sure. Name's Randy Garfield. And I don't know anything about any murder either."

"Did two young patrons enter here at around eleven last night?" Cho asked.

"I don't know. We were busy, I get a lot of traffic. Jeesh, there were plenty of young 'patrons' around that time."

"Is it possible that Alicia Jerold was one of those patrons?" Rigsby asked.

"Jon Jerold's daughter? That's big shot electronics guy? No way."

"Are you sure?"

"Sure I'm sure. I've seen the girl in the news a couple of times, pretty blond girl, right? Why? Did she sneak off or something?"

"She's dead, Mr. Garfield." Cho said flatly.

Garfield paled but shook his head insistently. "Like I said, I don't know nothing about any murder. And the Jerold girl was not here last night."

"Don't know nothing?" Rigsby raised a brow, smiling slightly, glancing at Cho. "That's a double negative, isn't it?"

"That it is. What you're really saying is that you know something about the murder."

"What? NO!" Garfield looked flustered. "Look, I don't know what you guys are talking about. Alicia Jerold wasn't in here last night and I know that for a fact. I didn't kill her or anyone else, I was here all night until almost 2 am."

"What about her boyfriend?" Rigsby asked, "James Castle? Was he here last night?"

"James who?"

"James Castle. Eighteen years old. Alicia's boyfriend." Rigsby elaborated for the man slowly, watching his face for a reaction.

"Look, I don't know who that is, I've never heard of him before so I couldn't tell you."

"We're going to need a copy of the security tapes from last night." Cho said.

"Uh, sure. You'll have to talk to the manager about that though. His office is back there." Garfield pointed toward a closed wooden door to the left of the bar with a brass plaque on the front.

"Alright. Thank you." Cho said as they started to turn and head toward the office.

"Oh, by the way, did anything unusual happen last night?"

"Unusual?" Garfield frowned at them, his brows scrunching together as he considered the question.

"Yeah, any fights? Outside or inside the bar? Loud commotion? Anything like that?" Rigsby asked, watching the man's face with patient, expectant eyes.

Garfield looked thoughtful, "It's always loud at night, people come by after work, get wasted and blow off steam. That's just how it is. But there weren't any fights or anything like that."

"Are you sure?" Cho asked, his dark eyes boring into Garfield's in a way that unsettled the bartender.

He nodded, "Positive."

Cho nodded and turned back to the office door, Rigsby right behind him. "Thank you for your help, Mr. Garfield."

**~/.\~**

They led Mr. Jerold away from his daughter's mangled body, closer to the parked police cruisers and dark SUVs that they'd arrived in.

Lisbon looked down at the concrete for a moment, trying to collect herself before beginning to question the man. He was still obviously distraught, but visibly calmer since Jane had spoken to him. She didn't know what he had done, and at the moment she didn't care to know as long as it soothed the man's nerves and allowed her to ask her questions without risking another breakdown.

Jane was currently standing next to her, leaning against one of the SUVs, staring off in the direction of the body. His mind was going in several different directions at once. Wondering what was so important at Regalia Bar, and why someone would decide to play such a twisted game with him. Why him? Why this game? Why now? Several whys bounced around in his head and he could honestly say that he didn't like the possible answers to any of them.

"Mr. Jerold where was your daughter supposed to be last night?" Lisbon asked carefully, keeping her voice even and calm so as not to send the man into another fit of hysterics.

Jerold swallowed and grimaced at the mention of his daughter and his voice shook just a bit when he answered her, "She was, uh, she was at a party. With James, her boyfriend. She was supposed to be home by eleven, when she never showed I thought… I thought she'd stayed with James, but I called his house and he wasn't home either."

"So… you figured that they'd run off together somewhere then?" Lisbon supplied, glancing at Jane who was being uncharacteristically silent, his hands shoved into his pockets as he studied Jerold's facial expressions, listened to the cadence and pitch of his voice. Looking for any hint of deception or falsehood anywhere.

Jerold nodded, tears glistening his eyes as a sob bubbled its way to the surface. "I called the police and they looked through the entire neighborhood… And this whole time she was… was here. If I had called sooner maybe –"

"Unlikely." Jane spoke finally, cutting the man off, his blue eyes never wavering from Jerold's dark ones. "Alicia was probably taken not long after she left James's house, there was little to nothing you could've done to stop this from happening. No matter how quickly you dialed 911, no matter how fast the police searched for her, the end result would almost indefinitely be the same."

Lisbon swallowed and looked down. Sometimes she really was tempted to shoot Jane for that blunt candor of his that had a habit of pissing the wrong people off. Damn it, did he have to sound so … detached when he said it? Like he was reading it from a script instead of feeling that raw emotion and watching it play out across a hurting man's face, in his eyes?

Luckily, Jerold seemed to appreciate the bluntness of Jane's statement. "You really believe that?"

"Yes, I do, Mr. Jerold. Did Alicia often make a habit of walking home alone in the dark?"

"No, of course not." Jerold shook his head, clearing his throat briefly, "She went to the party with her friend Andrea and was supposed to get a ride back from James. Her car is being worked on at the moment…" More tears, glittering and burning in the man's eyes. Lisbon sighed.

"Hmm." Jane frowned thoughtfully. "So why did she leave the party without James? Why walk out alone and expose herself to danger like that?"

"Are you suggesting that it's her fault that this happened?" Jerold frowned.

And back to pissing people off. Lisbon suppressed a groan and was about to jump in and save Jane, but he waved it off and shook his head quickly.

"No, of course not. Merely making an observation, stating an obvious question. Something made her leave that party alone. According to her friends, she and James had a fight. Was that common, lately?"

"James and Alicia fighting?" Jerold looked surprised, frowning at them. "You must've heard wrong, they've never been happier. They have been – _were_" he corrected himself with a grimace, "dating for nearly a year. If they hadn't been so young I'd say that I expected him to propose to her."

Jane frowned, "Interesting."

Lisbon cocked a brow and shook her head, "Mr. Jerold, did Alicia ever go to Regalia –"

"Where are her friends, exactly?" Jane interrupted, scanning the crowd of bystanders.

"What?" Lisbon frowned at him.

"Her friends. They're here, aren't they? Could you point them out to me, Mr. Jerold? I need to ask them a few questions."

Jerold looked confused but nodded slowly and pointed toward a small, close group of young people standing near the edge of the police tape, staring blankly ahead in horror. "That's them there."

"Excellent, thank you." Jane turned to head toward the teenagers and Lisbon tried to catch his arm before he could.

"Jane, wait!" she hissed, frowning after the blond man as he ambled his way across the crime scene toward them. She swore under her breath and had to take another moment to collect herself before turning back to Jerold.

If it weren't for the fact that his life may possibly be in jeopardy, Lisbon would've been tempted to shoot him. Actually, no, she still _was _tempted to shoot him, mortal danger or not.

**~~/~~**

**A/N 2: Voilà! Chapter two is complete. I know not too terribly much happened, things'll pick up soon I promise. Hope everyone was in-character once again! Let me know what you think please!**

**Reviews welcome! The blue button down there is your best friend!**


	4. Chapter Three

**A/N: I'm not sure if anyone is still reading this since no one reviewed last chapter :( I hope you are. I know the story was moving a bit slow and I'm sorry about that guys, but I promise it'll pick up soon with this chapter and the next! Please let me know if you're reading this guys, even if you didn't like it, I won't be able to fix it if you don't tell me!**

**I don't want to waste my time writing and posting this if no one is interested and it takes all of 3 minutes to review and say "i like it" or "it needs work"**

**Alrighty, chapter three...**

**Read and enjoy!**

**Please review!**

**~~/~~**

_**Chapter Three**_

_**~~/~~**_

The Castle residence was apparently just that: a castle. A paved, winding driveway led up to a regal looking front door, shimmering glass panes on either side and three stories of expensive stone. Van Pelt shook her head in awe at the place; she never tired of being able to enter the lavish homes of the rich and influential. Of course, she could certainly do without their problems and secrets. As she had said before, secrets eat away at people and ruin relationships. She'd seen it more times than she cared to count.

She stepped out of the SUV and walked up the stone steps, trying not to grin in her excitement that Lisbon had sent her somewhere other than her desk back at CBI headquarters. She had spent so many hours sitting in that chair that she felt certain it had formed an impression to her body perfectly.

Reaching up, she was about to knock on the door when it was pulled open to reveal a tall, impressive looking woman with brown hair swept back elegantly from her face. "You're the police, correct?" she asked, her dark eyes wide and pressing into Van Pelt with a nervous intensity. "Please tell me you've found my son, please." She sounded nearly desperate and it almost tore Van Pelt's heart to shake her head.

"I'm sorry, ma'am, we're looking for him, I assure you. I'm Agent Van Pelt, with CBI…" she showed the woman her badge briefly before continuing. "I need to ask you a few questions about your son's relationship with Alicia Jerold."

"Of course, of course…" Mrs. Castle nodded stepping to the side to allow her to enter. "Please come in, Agent. I'll do anything I can to help…"

Mrs. Castle led her down a wide and curving hall into a grand living room and motioned for her to sit down before taking a seat herself, crossing her legs elegantly and swallowing roughly.

Van Pelt looked around the space in awe, spotting several large family portraits on the mantle, and a graduation photo of James in his cap and gown. Mrs. Castle noticed her looking and smiled, "He's enrolled in Harvard next fall…" she said, her voice drifting off slightly. "I can't imagine him being so far away, but he's quite set on it. He wants to be a lawyer… like his father."

Her eyes glistened with fresh tears and Van Pelt offered the woman a small smile, reaching over and giving her clasped hands a gentle squeeze. "How old was he when Mr. Castle passed?"

"Thirteen," Mrs. Castle sniffled. "God, he's so much like him…" another faint smiled and she took a deep breath, drawing herself upright. "You _are _going to find him, Agent Van Pelt, aren't you?"

"We're doing our best, ma'am." Van Pelt assured her before clearing her throat and sighing. "Um, I need to ask you a few questions… James and Alicia, what was their relationship like?"

"Oh he loved her." Mrs. Castle nodded. "Head over heels for that girl… He's going to be so devastated. She was a sweet girl, but strong willed and determined. She was going to Harvard with him. Got a set of brains like her father… I think James was thinking of asking her to marry him."

"Really?" Van Pelt looked surprised. "How do you know that?"

"A mother knows." Mrs. Castle assured her. "He was looking through jewelry magazines, asking more questions about how his father and I had gotten married… He never said anything outright but… I knew."

"So, as far as you know they weren't fighting?"

"God no!" Mrs. Castle looked shocked. "James and Alicia never fought about anything."

"Were you here last night?" Van Pelt asked, frowning slightly.

"No," Mrs. Castle sounded sad. "I was visiting my sister in San Francisco. I didn't realize Alicia and James were gone until Georgia, our live-in housekeeper, called to tell me that Jonathan was looking for Alicia and both of them were gone. At the time I simply thought that they had run off somewhere and would be back by morning…" Tears glittered like jewels in the woman's eyes and she took a shuddering breath.

Van Pelt eyed the woman sadly, wishing that she could assure her that they would bring her son home safely, when the horrible reality was that all they could do was wait and hope they caught a break and fast.

**~/.\~**

"You're friends of Alicia's, right?" Jane spoke as he came up behind the small group of teenagers, all probably seventeen or eighteen years old.

They jumped slightly and turned around to stare at him, blinking in shock.

There were two girls and two guys. The girls were very similar in appearance, average height, slim with straight, short blond hair; one of the girls had dark roots and pale eyes, the other no roots and vivid green eyes. The guys were complete opposites. The blond was tall and slim with dark, probing eyes and a delicate hands and fingers; the brunette was shorter, stockier and well-muscled, short blunt fingers and blue-grey eyes that were constantly shifting around nervously, one hand kept his jacket closed tightly around his throat.

"Um…" one of the girls, the green-eyed girl who had obviously just stopped crying, frowned and shot the others a confused look.

"Who are you?" the blond boy asked, his eyes traveling from Jane's brown shoes, up to his face with a suspicious sneer as his upper lip curled just a bit.

Jane offered them a bright smile, "Patrick Jane. I, uh, work with CBI. Could you tell me what happened last night at the party?"

"We already told the cops what happened," the blond boy said.

"Ah, well, I'm not 'the cops' and I'd like to hear it myself, if you don't mind. Enlighten me." Jane continued to smile and the four of them shifted their eyes before the girl with roots stepped forward.

"I drove Alicia to James' last night; we got there late and she went right to his side."

The blond boy snorted, "Yeah, they could hardly go five minutes being away from each other."

"Did that bother you?" Jane asked, raising a brow slightly.

"What?"

"Alicia and James. Did it bother you that they were so in love and all you could do was watch from the sidelines while he stole your girl?"

Blondie snorted, "Uh, no, dude. I could care less."

"Ah, I see."

"See what?" he frowned then, looking a little nervous.

"Well, obviously you were jealous of them." Jane said matter-of-factly. "And since you seem adamant that you weren't jealous of James, you must have been jealous of Alicia. How long have you been fawning over her boyfriend?"

"What? No, man, no way." Blondie shook his head. "I'm straight."

"Hmm," Jane didn't look convinced at all. "Well I'm sure you'd like to believe that, but it's written all over your face. You were in love with him."

"No I wasn't!" he protested, shifting away from the confused and shocked looks on his friends' faces. "Dude, c'mon I –"

"Did you know James is missing?" Jane cut him off, breaking eye contact and looking back at the other three teenagers with curious eyes.

"What do you mean, 'missing'?" the stocky boy spoke for the first time, frowning.

"What does one generally mean when they say someone is missing?" Jane shot back. "We can't find him, obviously."

"Well, yeah, but he ran out after Alicia last night." The green eyed girl said, sounding worried. "He's just looking for her and hasn't heard the news yet."

"Uh, no. I'm afraid not." Jane shook his head. "Alicia's killer kidnapped your friend last night. He's holding him somewhere and wants me to find him before it's too late."

"What?" the girl with roots and Blondie spoke at the same time and Jane's eyes flitted back to the tall boy.

"So, if you really care about him, maybe you'd like to help me find him and catch Alicia's killer, yes?"

"Of course," Green Eyes nodded, "But, um… how are we supposed to help?"

Jane grinned wide again, "Two things. First, I need to know what happened last night at that party, and not what you told the police, I want the truth." They opened their mouths to protest but he stopped them, waving a finger at them and shaking his head. "Ah, no." he said. "I mean the _real _truth. And second… tell me everything you know about Regalia Bar."

"What?" Blondie frowned, looking completely thrown by that.

"What does the bar have to do with anything?"

"Well, it appears that is where whoever killed Alicia wants us to start looking for James. Of course, it could just be a cleaver trap, or a not-so-clever trap, but I don't think so. Which is why you four are going to help me. Starting with the truth. What happened last night?"

The four teenagers exchanged a glance and the brunette boy spoke again, "Exactly what we told the cops before." He said. "Alicia and James were sitting on the couch, drinking punch and he got some text message from some chick and she got angry and they fought and then she ran out and he went after her."

Jane sighed, "Didn't I say I wanted the truth? It's of no use to lie to me, honestly."

"That is the truth!" Green Eyes insisted, "Alicia got mad, they fought and she left and he chased after her."

"Hmm," Jane raised a brow. "Who was the text from?"

"How are we supposed to know?" the girl with roots demanded.

"Well, you said it was from a girl, how could you know that unless you knew _who _that girl could be. Alicia's father said she and James weren't having any problems, either he knows what he's talking about or Alicia had him fooled. And personally, I think he's the type to know when his daughter is lying to him."

Blondie sighed, "Look, we don't know. They didn't normally fight, but that's what happened, dude. He got a text, she got mad, she left, and he followed her."

Jane tilted his head, "So, you don't actually know if the text was from a girl then?"

"Well… I mean, no." Green Eyes frowned, "But what else could it have been? Alicia isn't –wasn't- the kind of girl to get mad over nothing."

"Was she the type of girl to run out of a party by herself? Because I doubt she was. Even if she was angry, she would've called her father, surely. Someone. But she didn't, she left. Why?"

"How are we supposed to know, she was pissed!" Blondie frowned, "Seriously, that's what happened."

"You're very defensive… what is your name?" Jane asked curiously.

"Devon." Blondie replied. "This is Candice, Andrea and Rhett." He waved a hand at the others.

"Well, Devon," Jane said slowly, "Why so defensive? Something to hide?"

"No." Devon's jaw was tight and he scowled at the man. "Nothing."

"Ah, c'mon, Devon, you can trust me. I know you're lying anyway, just tell me the truth, you'll feel much better."

"I'm not lying." Devon ground the words out against his teeth angrily. "That's what happened."

"You wanna know what I think?" Jane asked, smiling at them. "I think that it was _you _who sent the text message, wasn't it? You got sick of seeing Alicia and James happy and in love together so you sent James a text message. Probably some lie about Alicia, am I right?"

Devon's jaw got tight as he glared at Jane.

"And James, being the honest guy that he was, showed Alicia the message, which is why she was angry. Someone slandering her good name, that didn't go over well. But she didn't leave the party angry, did she?"

Jane looked immediately to Andrea, the girl with roots.

"Andrea, you know lying to the police during an investigation is a crime, don't you?" Jane asked. "Alicia's dead and James in danger, I want to know what really happened that night. Not what Devon asked you to say happened. Tell me."

Andrea glanced around at the others and looked down. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Andrea, Andrea, Andrea…" Jane sighed. "And I had so much faith in your honesty."

The girl pressed her lips together and didn't look up. "Come on Andrea, one of your friends is dead and another is missing. We need to know the facts to help find him. Tell me." Jane spoke with an intensity that almost made the girl flinch.

"Alright, alright." Andrea sighed.

"Andrea, he's –"

"No, stop." Andrea frowned at Devon before turning back to Jane. "Devon was jealous, but he didn't mean anything bad. He sent James a text off of Candy's phone, telling him that Alicia was cheating on him. James showed the message to Alicia, she got angry and confronted Candice…"

"And I told her that it was Devon," Candice cut in. "And Alicia was pissed, I mean, really pissed. But Devon was upstairs then, and James told her to wait and he could just take her home and talk to Devon later… Alicia was still mad, but she said she was going to just take a walk and clear her head before she did something stupid. James told her it was late, she didn't listen and he followed her out."

The girl's voice was tight as she spoke. "Devon asked us not to say anything about his text because…"

"Because it's none of your business and I…" he stopped himself before he could finished.

"And you what? Didn't want to look guilty?" Jane raised a brow, studying the teenager with keen, penetrating eyes.

Devon sighed, nodding. "Yeah, pretty much."

"He didn't do it!" Andrea quickly said, "He was at the party the whole time, he just… thought it wasn't the best thing to admit to."

"So you decided lying to the police was a better option."

"Yeah, look, we didn't hurt anyone alright?" Devon scowled.

"Alright, alright." Jane held his hands up in mock-surrender. "No need to get angry. I just have a couple more questions…"

"What questions?" Rhett asked, frowning.

"Regalia Bar." Jane said simply. "What's the significance? What happened there?"

The teens' brows scrunched together. "Nothing." Andrea said. "We've never even been there."

"Never?"

"No." Candice agreed, "Never. We've hung out across the street in the coffee shop, but not the bar. None of us are twenty-one anyway."

"Hmm. Interesting." Jane frowned thoughtfully.

"What is?"

"Nothing." He waved his hand in the air dismissively. "Well, thank you, you've all been very helpful. Very helpful." He nodded.

"You will find him, won't you?" Devon asked, "James?"

Jane looked back at him, studying his face. It was clear that whatever his faults, the boy obviously did care about James. "I'll do my best."

**~/.\~**

"I hope you got something useful from those kids, because I told you to stay with me." Lisbon growled.

"Oh, I got something interesting..." Jane nodded. "Not sure if it's useful or not."

Lisbon sighed as she yanked the door to the SUV open. "Interesting how?"

"Alicia and James didn't have a fight. She was angry at one of their friends and he followed her out when she decided to clear her head."

"So they were lying?"

"Yes, Lisbon, they were lying." Jane nodded, then sighed and frowned. "But they didn't know anything about Regalia Bar. Apparently, they've never been there."

"Like I said before, Jane, it's probably a trap. Why would the killer tell you where to start looking?"

"Because he obviously wants to engage in a game of wits," Jane said simply. "And he's using innocent lives as the playing pieces. I have to see that bar, Lisbon."

She sighed, "Jane…"

"It's important, I can feel it. Something is there. Something he wants me to find. And if it'll help us find James Castle –"

"Fine." Lisbon cut him off, frowning. "Fine. We'll go to the bar. Rigsby and Cho are looking at the security tapes now and Van Pelt is on her way back to the Statehouse to check on Forensics. But you have to promise me that you will behave yourself and you will be careful."

Jane pondered that as they drove, "I always behave myself. And I am _always _careful Lisbon. I haven't been shot yet."

"Yet being the operative word," Lisbon muttered. "Just promise me."

"Alright, alright. I promise, I'll be on my best behavior and no one will shoot me." He grinned at her and despite her best efforts, she grinned back, chuckling lightly under her breath. The man was a pain in the ass sometimes, but she couldn't help but smile when he gave her that grin of his. They drove off to Regalia Bar, her knuckles tight on the wheel as Jane stared out the window, curiously silent the entire ride. She wondered what he was thinking… and hoped desperately that he wasn't going to decide – though he likely already had – that the only way to solve this case was to play along with the killer's twisted little game.

**~~/~~**

**A/N2: So, there's chapter three. Longer than other chapters, I'm proud. And Jane finally is going to look at the bar. Of course he's going to play this game, Lisbon. And it'll only get worse…**

**Hope everyone was in-character. *sighs* I'm seriously nervous about writing this still…**

**Please don't forget to review! All comment and criticisms are welcome!**


	5. Chapter Four

**A/N: Thanks so much to those of you who reviewed and added this to alert. I know, for me personally, things are going a bit slow at the moment, but trust me, they are about to speed up :) So thanks for all of your support and reviews and alerts adds! You guys rock!**

**Chapter four… Woot XD Hope you guys enjoy!**

**And please let me know what you think! Reviews are highly appreciated!**

**~~/~~**

_**Chapter Four**_

_**~~/~~**_

"Hmm, I expected something a little showier from a bar with a name like 'Regalia'," Jane said thoughtfully as they stepped out of the SUV and headed toward the door. There were only a few people milling about inside, clearly bored, down-on-their-luck and out of work people trying to drown whatever sorrows they had.

"It's a bar, Jane, what more can you expect? Cheap beer, dim lights, bad food. That's what they're all like." Lisbon remarked, starting to push the doors open and step inside. Jane hesitated by the alley next door, separating the bar from a consignment shop advertising 'New 2 U' in bold block letters on the window.

"Jane?" Lisbon frowned, holding the door open impatiently. "You coming or what?"

"Hold on a second, Lisbon…" Jane wandered further into the alley and Lisbon sighed, releasing the door and following the consultant warily.

"You're the one who insisted on coming here, Jane," she half-growled, frowning at the back of his blond head as he went further into the alley, towards the garbage bins at the end. Lisbon gagged and tried to wave the stench away as it reached her nose. Three day old garbage from the bar, mingling with vomit from unlucky patrons combined to make a smell she wouldn't soon forget.

"I know, I know… But Alicia's friends said that they'd never been to the bar and Cho and Rigsby got nothing either, right?"

"Right." Lisbon agreed. "This was a waste of time. The killer was probably trying to throw us off."

"Not likely…" Jane murmured absently, wandering ever closer to the trash bins, keen blue eyes moving along the crumbling bricks and vomit splattered concrete. "There is something here, Lisbon. Something he wants me to find. Something that could very well lead us to James Castle."

Lisbon sighed and stopped walking towards him, not willing to get any closer to the stinking garbage than absolutely necessary. Jane stood a few feet in front of her and suddenly, he crouched down, head close to the dirty ground below his shoes and smiled as he looked back up at her.

"Ah ha!" he grinned. She groaned.

"What?" she asked nervously, silently praying that it wasn't something she would have to go check out.

"Blood," Jane said, pointing to a discolored patch of ground near the dumpsters. "Definitely blood. How much do wanna bet that belongs to Alicia Jerold?"

"Jane, this is an alley outside of a bar. Fights happen. That blood could belong to anyone and there is nothing that puts Alicia here last night."

"Nothing except for a note written by the killer himself." Jane pointed out. "I'm telling you Lisbon, this is where it all happened."

"You don't know that." Lisbon said stubbornly, but her eyes traveled around the alley and she felt a bit sick. God, what a horrible place for her life to end…

Jane frowned, tilting his head. "Of course, it could be James' blood…" he said thoughtfully.

"Ok, hold it. We don't have any evidence that he's hurt at all Jane. For now he's missing. And alive."

"Well, if you believe the murderer, sure." Jane shrugged, a faint frown of concentration on his face. "But there's a lot of blood here Lisbon…" he tilted his head slightly, "And a trail…" he stood from his crouch and followed what Lisbon could only assume was his blood trail. Apparently, it led all the way to the stinking dumpsters. Great. Sooner or later, she knew she was going to have to hold her breath and take that dreadful step toward the filthy odor.

He stopped at the edge of the dumpster and made a face. "That is really foul…" he muttered, squinting slightly as if the smell itself were stinging his eyes. But nevertheless, he reached up and tossed the lid of the metal bin backwards, grasping the lip of it and pulling himself up just enough to peek inside. He made a retching sound and his fingers slipped. Lisbon rushed to catch him, but she wasn't close enough and her consultant ended up blinking confusedly on the ground, looking disorientated and ill.

"Jane are you alright?" she demanded, frowning at the man.

"Fine, Lisbon, fine." His voice was tighter than usual as he forced himself back to his feet and scrubbed his hands against his pant legs. "Can't say the same for James Castle…"

"What are you talking about?"

Jane looked up and met her eyes and she saw, for the briefest of moments, a flash of guilt and horror before he shoved it back down.

"His body is in that dumpster…"

**~/.\~**

"I don't understand," Van Pelt looked confused as she, Rigsby and Cho listened to Lisbon and Jane explain what the killer had said in the note. They were all standing outside of the alley, coroner and forensics techs working by the dumpsters. Lisbon doubted the masks they were wearing were any help at all against the stench.

"If the killer was going to challenge Jane to some game, why kill James now? Why say he was alive when he wasn't?"

Lisbon didn't know, shaking her head. "I don't –"

"Because he never intended to challenge me." Jane said thoughtfully. "I should've seen it before…"

"Seen what before?" Lisbon demanded, frowning at him.

"He only left the note because he wanted me to think I actually had a chance. He wanted me to believe that James Castle was still alive and I could save him, when in reality, I never had a chance at all. He wanted to hurt me. To make me feel guilty because I didn't get to James in time."

"This isn't your fault Jane," Lisbon quickly told him. "The coroner estimated that James has been dead since at least midnight last night. He was probably killed with Alicia."

"I know…" Jane said, but he didn't sound focused. He was frowning, deep in thought.

"Jane," Lisbon frowned at him.

"Hmm?"

"What are you thinking?"

He blinked and then grinned at her, though the smile didn't quite reach his eyes like it normally did. "Oh, nothing…" he assured her. His eyes wandered toward James' body, now out of the dumpster and respectfully covered.

"Jane…" Lisbon's voice was a warning, but the blond man didn't seem to notice.

"I'm going to wait in the car…" he said slowly. "There's really nothing else for me to see here."

Lisbon sighed, "Alright, fine. Van Pelt, go with him back to the office. Finish watching the security tapes from last night. See if any of the outside cameras caught a glimpse of the killer."

The redhead nodded, "On it, boss."

As they left, Lisbon sighed and turned back to Rigsby and Cho.

"Do you think Jane's alright?" Rigsby asked, frowning. "I've never seen him that quiet."

"He did just find a kid's body…" Cho reminded him, though there was a faint, hardly detectably trace of genuine worry in his dark eyes.

"He's fine," Lisbon assured them, though it took everything in her not to look back and make sure Jane was indeed alright as he and Van Pelt climbed into one of the SUVs.

"I want you two to canvas the streets, alright? Find out if anyone around here saw or heard anything." She ordered.

The two men nodded and set out to question store owners and people in the area as Lisbon gritted her teeth and headed toward the SUV she'd driven in with Jane hardly an hour earlier. Now it was time for the really hard part… Telling Mrs. Castle that her son would never come home.

**~/.\~**

Grace threw anxious looks at Jane every few seconds as they stepped off the elevator. He had been almost completely silent on the ride back, unusual for him. "Jane…" she said slowly.

He turned and smiled at her, "Yes, Grace?" he asked easily.

She sighed, "You know it's not your fault." She reiterated what Lisbon had told him earlier. "James was dead before the killer even wrote that note."

Jane's eyes flickered and he nodded, "I know." He said.

But he didn't really know. It was obvious to him whether or the not the others had realized it yet: James and Alicia were both killed to get his attention and make an impression. It was all for him. Just like his wife and daughter. He didn't know why, but whoever had killed those two teenagers had killed them because of him. And that made their deaths most assuredly his fault.

Van Pelt sighed as if she knew there was no way to convince Jane that he was wrong, and nodded. "I'm going to watch the security footage from the bar. Do you wanna help?" she asked.

Jane looked thoughtful for a moment and shook his head, "Nah. I think I'll just rest for a while…" he told her, offering her another one of his bright grins before heading toward the bullpen and the brown leather couch that was calling his name. He did some of his best thinking on that couch. And got some of his best sleep there too…

He walked into the room, ready to lean back, close his eyes and let the facts of the case revolve around in his mind for a while when he stopped dead in his tracks and frowned. Someone was sitting on his couch. A tall, regal looking, red headed someone. Kristina Frye.

He almost turned around and went back to the elevators, but he didn't. He forced his feet forward and stared down at the woman. "You're on my couch." He said, frowning at her.

She smiled up at him. "Patrick, I was beginning to wonder where you'd gotten off too." She stood and he raised a brow, taking the opening and sliding onto the couch and closing his eyes.

She sighed, "Don't you even want to ask why I'm here?"

"I know why you're here."

"Oh do you?" she asked, raising a brow.

"Yep. You're here about the Alicia Jerold case." He told her, his eyes still firmly closed.

"Yes. I spoke with her –"

"She's dead."

"Yes she is," Kristina nodded, looking a bit sad. "And she was so young… vibrant and beautiful and full of hope."

"You can't talk to her if she's dead." Jane told her, still not opening his eyes.

Kristina sighed. "Patrick, why is it so hard for you to believe that I truly am who I say I am?"

Jane sighed heavily and sat back up, "Because I know your games, Kristina. I used to _be_ you. You can't channel the dead any more than I could talk to a fish."

Kristina sighed. "Alicia told me that she wanted me to help you… She saw you at the crime scene, talking to her friends."

Jane frowned but didn't respond.

"She likes you, Patrick."

"Did she happen to mention who killed her?" Jane asked, raising a brow.

"She didn't know him." Kristina said simply. "She'd never seen him before and she didn't get a good look at him before he took her and her boyfriend… James."

Jane stared up at her, "Is that all?"

Kristina frowned, "No. James is dead."

"I know that." Jane said.

Kristina raised a brow, "Oh?"

"I found his body an hour ago."

She looked down sadly, "Oh…" she sighed. "Patrick, she wants me to help you."

"Of course she does," Jane muttered, sliding back down the couch and closing his eyes again.

Kristina studied him carefully, tilting her head with a frown. "She told me to tell you something, Patrick. She says that you need to hear it."

Jane made an unintelligible noise, but otherwise didn't respond.

Kristina sighed again, "Are you going to listen or pretend to sleep?"

"I am listening…" Jane told her. "So far it sounds like a lot of malarkey to me. Usual 'psychic' business. Are you going to tell me the murder weapon was tossed in a lake?"

She pursed her lips. "No. The killer took the knife with him." She said simply. "Alicia wants you to know that it isn't your fault. Whatever guilt or blame you've placed on yourself isn't necessary. You didn't kill her."

Jane froze, his jaw feeling tighter than usual. He forced his breathing to stay normal and said nothing.

"Did you hear me?" Kristina asked, her voice a bit gentler then.

"I heard you." Jane said finally. "You're wrong, but I guess it's the thought that counts. Next time you talk to Alicia, tell her I'll find whoever did this, would you?"

"I'm not leaving, Patrick. I told you, Alicia wants me to help you and I'm going to do everything I can to do that, whether you like it or not."

Jane groaned. "I didn't ask for your help."

"Alicia did."

"Of course she did." Jane muttered, sounding bitter for the first time. He was already getting tired of this conversation. "Look if you're going to insist of sticking around could you maybe go wait somewhere else? I really don't appreciate people in my space."

Kristina smiled softly and nodded, though Jane's eyes were still closed. "Fine, Patrick. I'll wait for the rest of your team over here. But at least try to stop blaming yourself. Alicia doesn't want you to feel guilty. It wasn't your fault."

**~~/~~**

**A/N 2: How was that? Good, bad, terrible? *looks up anxiously* I hope I did a good job writing Kristina's character… *crosses fingers* Let me know guys!**

**Things are getting interesting, huh? Hope you like the chapter!**

**Please don't forget to review!**


	6. Chapter Five

**A/N: Thanks to all of those who reviewed! You're opinions and comments mean a lot to me! And to the anonymous reviewers I can't reply to, MentalistLover and Anna, thanks so much for taking the time to review as well! Your support means a lot!**

**Chapter 5! We're making progress… I hope you guys enjoy it! Please let me know!**

**Reviews and comments are greatly appreciated…**

**~~/~~**

_**Chapter Five**_

_**~~/~~**_

Lisbon was already eager for this case to be closed when she walked into the bullpen almost an hour and a half later. Mrs. Castle had been hysterical when she told her what had happened to her son. Worse than Mr. Jerold, that was for sure.

The woman had cried and sobbed and begged Lisbon to tell her it wasn't true until eventually, she calmed down enough to answer a few questions without too many tears and Lisbon left gratefully. It was by far the worst part of her job, notifying family members that someone they loved was never going to come home. She would never be able to get used to that.

Van Pelt had called her on the way back to tell her that the cameras outside of the bar didn't get a glimpse into the alley where Alicia and James were likely murdered, so there was no help there, and Rigsby and Cho would soon be on their way back with much the same story. No one, it seemed, saw or heard a thing that night. And just when she thought the case couldn't get any more stressful, she walked into the bullpen and spotted none other than Kristina Frye.

Damn it. Jane wasn't going to like this. She growled internally, but offered the woman her hand as she approached.

"Ms. Frye," she smiled faintly.

"Oh, please, Agent Lisbon, call me Kristina." She said warmly as she took her hand.

Lisbon nodded, "Kristina." She amended. "What can I do for you?"

"Well, I'm actually here to offer you my assistance. Alicia Jerold communicated with me and expressed her wishes that I help you and your team with this case."

Lisbon wasn't too sure if she believed that to be true or not. Psychic abilities seemed a bit farfetched to her, personally, but Kristina had been helpful in the past, con-woman or not. "Well, we're always happy to accept help, Kristina." She said, trying to keep her voice even as her eyes flickered toward the break room where she spotted Jane, watching them as covertly as possible, holding his little blue tea cup in his hand.

"But…" Kristina smiled, raising a brow questioningly.

"But," Lisbon sighed. "I'm not so sure that it's a good idea."

"I had a feeling you would say that," Kristina said understandingly. "Mr. Jane doesn't like me very much and you don't want to cause a rift amongst your team. We are all adults, though, aren't we? I'm sure he can put aside his dislike if it's in the case's best interest."

Lisbon thought she heard Jane snort, but she couldn't really be sure. Kristina didn't react at all, so maybe it had been her imagination. Her eyes stayed focused on Jane, but she nodded and spoke to Kristina. "That's very true." She watched Jane's faint smile turn into a frown and looked back at the woman in front of her. "And you've been very helpful before. Whatever you think you can do to help, we'd be happy to have you."

Jane's frown turned into an all-out scowl then and he turned back into the small kitchenette. Lisbon smirked to herself, "We're still looking into possible leads at the moment, if you would just have a seat, I'll be right back."

She brushed passed the woman and into the break room, "What is your problem?" she demanded, frowning at the back of Jane's head where he sat at the small table.

"Me? Problem? I don't have a problem, Lisbon…" Jane said innocently. "Why would I? You are, after all, the boss, aren't you? And if you want to accept help from some con-artist, then that would be your call, wouldn't it?"

"Jane…" Lisbon sighed and walked around to face the man. "She's helpful. And helpful is good. If she wants to claim to channel dead spirits to give us new insights, then by all means, she can."

Jane frowned, "She doesn't do anything that I can't do better…"

Lisbon rolled her eyes, "Two heads are better than one, Jane." She told him. "With both of you helping, we'll have this case solved twice as fast."

"Nonsense." Jane waved his hand dismissively, fingers playing with the handle of his cup. "With two heads you get more conflict. Too many thoughts all crowding together for release. It'd be chaos, Lisbon, if everyone had two heads. Especially if those two heads didn't particularly like each other."

"Well the last time I checked, you were the one who had a problem with her, Jane. She doesn't seem all that bothered that you don't like her."

"Bah, she's seething inside." Jane said. "She's just very good at hiding it."

"Uh huh." Lisbon said disbelievingly. "Well, either way, she's helping and that's all there is to it, understand? Play nice."

Jane grumbled under his breath and went back to his tea. Lisbon sighed heavily and left him there, sulking like an angry child, and went back out to the bullpen to talk to Kristina.

**~/.\~**

Rigsby and Cho sighed, walking out of the run-down apartment building and heading toward the SUV they'd left parked on the curb. Nothing. Again and again everyone they talked to said the exact same thing. No one heard anything, no one saw anything. Either these people were horribly unobservant or their killer was the invisible man.

"The bartender did say it was loud in the bar last night…" Rigsby pointed out with a frown.

"And it was late. Not many people around to see much." Cho reasoned. "It makes sense that no one saw anything."

"Not very many nosey neighbors in a dingy street like this… Most of the shops were already closed…" Rigsby added as they stepped off the sidewalk.

It did make a certain amount of sense that there wasn't much to go on. Their killer had obviously done his homework, studied the area, probably even studied James and Alicia. And all that left them with was a lot of unhelpful people and two dead teenagers. Oh, and the note in Alicia's hand. Can't forget that.

"Your turn to drive," Cho pointed out as they rounded the dark vehicle. Rigsby sighed, but reached for the driver's side door anyway as Cho tossed the keys toward his head. He missed them as they skimmed his fingers and he pulled the door open, bending down to snatch them off the ground when a small, taped envelope fluttered by his ear, apparently having been slipped into the inside of the door.

"What's this?" Rigsby frowned and snatched it up, turning it over in his hands.

"What have you got?" Cho asked, watching him from the passenger seat with narrowed eyes.

"Dunno…" Rigsby said absently, "But we'd better call the boss…"

He held up the envelope to the other agent, displaying the back of it where, in neat, dark handwriting, was a single line across the white space:

_"Kindly deliver this to_ _Mr. Jane. I'm sure he'll find it useful."_

**~/.\~**

"So the cameras got nothing?" Lisbon asked, frowning at Van Pelt.

The red haired agent was sitting across from her at a the small conference table, Kristina Frye sitting to her right. Jane was still sulking childishly in the break room.

She shook her head, "I went over everything Rigsby and Cho didn't. None of the cameras get a good angle on the alley, it's too far out of range. And there's no one outside the bar or near enough to be caught on tape during the hour before and hour after the coroner's estimated time of death."

Lisbon sighed. She'd been hoping they'd get lucky and at least get a profile of their killer. Even without his face, knowing his height and body type would have been extremely useful.

"He did his homework," Lisbon muttered. "Probably knew the cameras wouldn't spot him."

Kristina nodded, "From what Alicia remembers, he knew exactly where he was going and what he was doing."

Van Pelt frowned, "She can't give you a description?" she asked, almost hopefully.

"No, it was dark and Alicia was disoriented and scared. Her memories of the attack are hazy enough as it is, what she can recall isn't clear. Nor does she want to dwell on it."

"Understandable," Jane's voice spoke from behind them. "I mean, she was stabbed to death, wasn't she? Painful way to go."

Lisbon watched his face carefully, spotting the fainted tremor along his jaw, his eyes darker than usual, and she realized how difficult this must be for him. In flash, the pained, guilty look in his eyes was gone, however, and he was back to the Jane she knew.

"I think we should go back to alley. Or the bar." He tilted his head thoughtfully. "The killer didn't lead me there just to find James' body. There's something else, maybe he left another message for me."

"Another message?" Lisbon frowned at him. "Jane this isn't some game –"

"To the killer it is. He has nothing invested in Alicia and James, he set this up for another reason. He's going to communicate again. Probably at the bar or near it. We should get back there, look around some more."

"Forensics are all over the place, Jane. If there's another message they'll find it." Lisbon said sternly. "You are staying here. If this really is about you, then you could be in danger and I'm not risking you getting shot or worse."

"Lisbon your concern is touching, but completely unnecessary. I'm perfectly fine. Just a quick look around, I promise."

Kristina shook her head, "I think Agent Lisbon is right, Patrick. If you go back to that bar now, you'll be placing yourself in great danger."

Jane frowned at her, "Oh not you too." He muttered. "Rigsby and Cho are still there, Lisbon, they'll watch out for me if that'll make you happy."

"They should already be on their way back, Jane. It's dangerous and you aren't going. That's final."

Jane opened his mouth to argue but Lisbon's buzzing phone interrupted him and she held a hand up to silence his words as she put the device to her ear.

"Lisbon." She answered shortly. She blinked, frowned and her eyes flickered to Jane for a moment. "You're kidding?" she sighed heavily. "No, no, leave it sealed and bag it. We'll open it when you get here. And be careful. At the very least, this means he's watching." She snapped the phone shut and turned her green eyed glare onto Jane.

"You were right." She muttered.

Jane looked surprised. "I was? About what?"

"The killer left you another note on Rigsby and Cho's SUV."

**~~/~~**

**A/N2: Dun dun dun LOL Small cliffhanger, I couldn't resist.**

**Hope you guys enjoyed it! Please let me know what you think!**

**PS- I'm starting college Tuesday, so my updates may come a little slower, but I will ALWAYS update within a week.**

**Reviews are always welcome!**


	7. Chapter Six

**A/N: Thanks so much for your reviews and alerts adds guys! And again, to the anonymous reviewers, MentalistLover and Anna, thanks so much! I'm glad you guys are enjoying the story so far!**

**Chapter six! Hope you enjoy!**

**As always, Reviews and criticisms are welcomed with open arms! Always eager to hear your thoughts!**

**~~/~~**

_**Chapter Six**_

_**~~/~~**_

Jane was impatiently waiting for Rigsby and Cho to arrive back at the Statehouse with the message. He wanted, no, he _needed _to see that note. Whatever was going on, he knew it was about him and the more information he could get from the killer, the higher the likelihood was that he could figure out who it was. Of course, Regalia Bar was a forty-five minute drive from the Statehouse and Jane was not one known for patience.

"Jane," Lisbon frowned at him, her sharp green eyes piercing the back of his head as he stood, holding a cup of tea, staring off toward the elevators. "Stop it. They're on their way; they should be here any time."

"It's been forty minutes." Jane told her without turning around. "Forty minutes of a forty-five minute drive."

"Exactly," Lisbon nodded. "They've still got a few minutes, Jane. And they could've hit traffic, you never know. It is almost five o'clock."

Jane grumbled slightly and finally turned back to face the three women. Van Pelt was sitting at her desk, diligently searching over CCTV footage from the park where Alicia was dropped. They'd gotten lucky and caught the dark silhouette of the killer dragging her body to the dumpsite, but nothing else. She was trying to find him again, at least get a make and model on the vehicle he was driving.

"Rigsby drives fast. They should've been here already." Jane complained.

"Jane." Lisbon warned. "I'm telling you right now, if you don't calm down and sit down, I'm sending you home."

"You can't send me home!" Jane protested. "This case is _about _me Lisbon! You need me to be here whenever the killer leaves me messages."

Lisbon sighed. "If you want to keep working the case, I suggest you have a seat and calm down. Being impatient won't get Cho and Rigsby back any sooner, alright?"

The consultant didn't look happy, but he finally nodded and sank down onto the brown leather couch, tea cup still in hand, and pouted. Lisbon rolled her eyes and turned back to Kristina, deciding to ignore Jane for the moment.

"So, you were saying that you –"

"Finally!" Jane grinned broadly and jumped to his feet as Rigsby and Cho entered the bullpen carrying an envelope in an evidence bag. Lisbon sighed heavily as the blond man hurried over to them and snatched the bag from Rigsby's hands.

"Jane, stop!" Lisbon snatched his hand back before he could unseal the evidence bag. "We haven't dusted for prints yet, you need gloves."

"Lisbon, be serious, this killer is far too smart to have left any fingerprints on the paper." Jane told her with a frown.

"That doesn't matter, Jane. It's procedure." Lisbon scowled. "Gloves. Now."

Jane sighed, "Fine." He snatched the latex gloves from Lisbon as she held them out to him and watched as Rigsby opened the bag and shook the envelope into Jane's waiting hands. Resisting the urge to simply rip the envelope open, figuring that would only serve to make Lisbon yell at him more, he forced himself to gently pull the tape away, taking the folded sheet of paper out and reading.

_"Mr. Jane,_

_It appears that you were just a tad too late. James Castle paid the price for your ignorance and lies._

_As I warned you earlier, Mr. Jane, you will understand that you cannot play with the lives of others. You will pay for what you have done, and I will see to it that you suffer dearly for your crimes. This time, someone you are close too will pay the price if you can't stop me in time._

_Have fun."_

Short and to the point, Jane thought. Though he couldn't help but also think the killer was sorely mistaken if he thought he hadn't already suffered dearly for any crimes he may have committed. He'd suffered more than enough, and he deserved every moment of it.

"He's very articulate…" Jane murmured absently.

"What does it say?" Lisbon frowned, starting to snatch the paper from him. Jane grinned and jerked it back.

"Ah, no. Gloves, remember?" he reminded her teasingly.

She rolled her eyes and he held the paper back out to her, letting her and the others read the note as well. The shorter woman sighed, "Alright, maybe you were right. This is about you."

"What does that mean, 'someone you are close too will pay the price'?" Van Pelt asked, frowning slightly as she leaned around Rigsby's shoulder to read.

"Obviously, it means that someone I care about is his next target." Jane said, frowning. He didn't like the feeling he got from simply saying those words out loud. It brought back far too many painful memories.

Lisbon's eyes shot to his face for a moment, catching the brief flash of guilt and pain before it dissolved completely behind his usual mask.

"So a friend of yours?" Cho suggested. "Someone you've spent time with recently?"

"Who?" Rigsby asked, frowning at the consultant.

Jane shrugged, "I dunno…" he said simply, glancing back down at the note, blue eyes not revealing anything.

"Jane, come on, who could it be? Like you always say, it's often the first person to pop into your mind, right? Who are you close to?"

Jane paused, "Let me think… No one." He said after a moment.

"No one? Come on, Jane, there has to be someone." Lisbon frowned at him, her green eyes glaring at him angrily.

"There's no one. Besides you people, I don't really 'socialize' much,"

"You people?" Van Pelt frowned, "Is that what you think of us?"

"Uh, no I just meant that –"

"It's Agent Lisbon." Kristina said suddenly. She was standing a little apart from the group, her eyes fixed on Jane, keen and penetrating.

"What?" the agents all turned to face the psychic with confused frowns.

"Agent Lisbon is going to be the next target." Kristina said, her eyes never leaving Jane's face.

"What are you talking about?" Lisbon frowned.

"He's going to go after you, Agent Lisbon." Kristina told her.

"How could you possibly know that?" Lisbon's skepticism came out in her voice without her meaning for it to. "Jane and I are just colleagues."

"No you aren't." Kristina smiled faintly. "There's a strong connection between the two of you. You trust each other more than you trust anyone else. You're friends, confidants. You worry about each other."

Jane frowned, for the first time realizing how people must feel when he did the exact same thing to them. It was incredibly irritating.

"That's ridiculous." Lisbon said, but her eyes flitted to Jane for a moment, confusion and concern there. "We never see each other outside of work."

"That doesn't mean you aren't close." Kristina said.

"She does have a point, Boss." Van Pelt said quietly. "You and Jane are close."

"Yeah, all those private conversations in your office –" Rigsby started to say.

"When I'm yelling at him!" Lisbon cut him off, setting him with a dark glare.

"Yeah, but if anyone else pulled the stunts he pulls, you'd fire them without thinking." Cho pointed out.

"We're colleagues!" Lisbon's brows came down over her eyes. "I'm not in any danger."

Jane smirked slightly, "Ah, Lisbon, I think we should just stop hiding it. They've clearly caught on to our secret."

"What secret!" Lisbon demanded, turning her glare back to Jane, murder in her venomous green eyes.

"You know," Jane's smirk turned into a bright, mischievous grin. "We can't hide it anymore."

"Hide what?" Van Pelt asked, her eyes going from one to the other, looking excited.

Jane grinned, his keen blue eyes focused on Lisbon as he answered. "Lisbon and I are lovers."

"WHAT?" Lisbon nearly exploded. "Patrick Jane! I am going to kill you!"

Rigsby, Cho and Van Pelt, for one brief moment believed him… before they saw Lisbon lurch forward, furious fire burning in her eyes. Jane saw it coming and was quick to dodge out of the way before her fist could collide with his face.

"Aw, Lisbon, c'mon, I was just kidding!" Jane protested, lithely jumping out of her way to hide behind Rigsby, who quickly moved with wide eyes when Lisbon turned her narrowed, angry gaze in his direction.

Her fists clenched, Lisbon breathed angrily and glared at the blond man, the urge to shoot him more powerful than it had ever been before. "Jane, you have no idea how close you are to being dead."

"Oh, I know. Believe me, Lisbon, I know." Jane said, eyeing her cautiously as he edged forward. "For a moment, I thought I _was_ dead…"

"Good." She ground through her teeth, taking a deep breath to steady herself. She closed her eyes and pushed her hair out of her face. "Now could we please get back to the investigation?"

"Right..." Rigsby stepped forward again, "Someone close to Jane…"

"Other than me." Lisbon added, shooting an angry look toward her consultant.

"It _is_ you." Kristina spoke again. "Agent Lisbon, you are in danger, I can assure you of that with certainty."

"Did your spirits tell you that too?" Jane asked curiously.

Van Pelt sent him an angry look of her own, which Jane promptly ignored.

Kristina just smiled at him, "As a matter of fact."

"Huh, fact, really?" Jane tilted his head. "I'd say fiction, but… eh, to-may-toe, to-mah-toe." He grinned and shrugged nonchalantly.

Lisbon sighed, "Jane, stop." She warned him. "Is there anyone you were close to, seriously? Anyone at all?"

Jane shook his head, "No, Lisbon, I told you. There is no one. I don't exactly get out much."

Lisbon sighed, "Alright… From here on out, no one goes anywhere alone, we're all open targets as of now and the killer is obviously watching the investigation. Rigsby, Van Pelt, I want you two to start looking into anyone who could have some sort of beef with Jane, alright?"

Rigsby groaned, muttering under his breath. Making a list of people who wanted to make Jane suffer? They'd be working for days.

"Cho, you come with me, we're going to check out the area around Regalia Bar. The killer was watching us there; we need to find out how and from where."

Jane moved to follow them and Lisbon held up her hand to stop him. "You stay here." She said sternly. "Help Rigsby and Van Pelt."

Jane made a face, "But I –"

"No arguing, Jane, it's final. Stay. And behave. I mean it."

**~/.\~**

Lisbon and Cho pulled up to the bar exactly forty-seven minutes later and she stood out front, hands on her hips, frowning for a long stretch of time.

"Something wrong?" Cho asked, glancing back when Lisbon didn't follow him to the door of the bar.

She sighed, "Jane's right… You'd think, with a name like that, the bar would be in better condition." She murmured to herself before shaking her head and following him to the sidewalk.

"You didn't find anything inside when you and Rigsby talked to the bartender, right?"

"Right." Cho nodded.

"And all of our evidence says that they were killed in the alley. Let's start there, maybe forensics missed something."

"Like what?" Cho's brows came down confusedly and he studied Lisbon's face. She wasn't normally one to work off of hunches. Solid, good police work was more her style. But Jane had rubbed off on her over the past few years, that was for sure.

"I don't know…" Lisbon frowned. "But the bar hasn't been helpful so far. Let's move." She waved her hand in the direction of the alley and started walking, a moment later hearing Cho's footfalls behind her as the two of them peered into the now empty alley.

It was getting dark out, the dim light of dusk just brushing the sky, but they could still see fairly well and that was all that mattered as they made their way toward the dumpsters. The smell made Lisbon retch, but she held her breath and forced herself forward. Apparently, even with James' body gone, the garbage was fouler than normal filth had any right to be. She spun around in a circle, trying to take the entirety of the narrow alley in at once.

There honestly wasn't much, but she hadn't truly expected anything. Crumbling bricks, dirty cement, rotting garbage. Nothing she hadn't seen before. Her eyes wandered toward the dumpsters and for a moment she actually considered peering inside. But that was an idea quickly tossed away. The dumpsters had been taller than Jane; she would have had to have Cho hoist her up to see anything worthwhile. And there was no way in hell she was sticking her head in a garbage bin anyhow. Not going to happen.

Cho, moving silently behind her, nearly jumped at a soft rustling noise and looked down to see a rat a couple of feet in front of him. Mentally shaking himself, he settled his face back into its impassive mask and moved onward, not spotting anything of use. Just like it had been earlier, the alley was a haven for filth, decay and, apparently, rats. Nothing more.

"There's nothing here," Lisbon sighed, turning around with a frown on her face. "Let's go check out the bar aga- CHO LOOK OUT!" her hand whipped to her gun a moment too late. A dark shape moved like a blur from where it had been watching them from the mouth of the alley and the next thing the agents knew, they were on their backs, heads cracking painfully on the hard concrete as the shape – a tall man dressed in all black, wearing a mask – tackled them and they collided into each other.

Lisbon's gun was kicked out of her hand roughly and Cho felt his own weapon being yanked from its holster at his hip before the dark metal of the gun came down roughly on the side his head. Once. Twice. Three times. Cho's struggling stopped and he remained still, the slight rise and fall of his chest the only indication that he was still alive.

Lisbon scrambled back and stumbled to her feet, disoriented and trying to find her gun in the failing light. It was too dark… her head was throbbing horribly… Cho was unconscious… Her thoughts felt jumbled. Damn it, if Jane got her killed she was going to come back just to haunt him…

She blinked and groaned, her eyes scanning the alley desperately for her gun, her numb fingers fumbling in her pocket for her phone, but before she had a chance to pull it out of her pocket, the gun – Cho's gun – was slammed against the side of her head. She saw stars for one brief moment and had enough time to be really pissed off at herself and at Jane before her eyes rolled back and she slumped to the ground only to be caught by the quick, strong arms of the killer.

He chuckled lightly to himself, fished out a crisp white envelope and let it flutter to the ground, landing on top of the unresponsive Agent Cho. He tossed the gun toward the back of the alley where Lisbon's own weapon was resting and slipped his arms under the lithe agent's shoulders, pulling her up and glancing around as he dragged her back to his vehicle and tossed her roughly into the backseat.

Now his revenge would truly begin…

**~~/~~**

**A/N2: And that was a cruel place to leave it, yet I did ;)**

**We're getting a bit closer to where the Prologue left off, can you see it? *grins***

**I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Please let me know what you think!**

**Reviews and criticisms are always welcomed!**


	8. Chapter Seven

**A/N: Thanks so much for the reviews guys! Again, thanks to MentalistLover for the anonymous review as well!**

***grins* Well, we're finally getting to where the Prologue left off! Thanks for all of your support so far, I'm glad you guys are enjoying it!**

**Onto chapter seven!**

**~~/~~**

_**Chapter Seven**_

_**~~/~~**_

Jane was lying on his couch, staring up at the ceiling, humming to himself. Boredom, he was certain, would kill him one day. He was practically vibrating to be out there in the field with Lisbon and Cho, he hated that he was left behind. Rigsby and Van Pelt were sitting by her computer, occasionally asking him questions about this person or that, though to be honest, he wasn't being very helpful. He wanted to be at the bar, _doing_ something to figure out who this guy was and why he felt the need to play this twisted little game.

"Jane?" Van Pelt frowned from over her computer. "What does this mean…? Malcolm Finch filed a police report in the spring of '97, claiming that you were 'harassing' his wife. It was settled out of court though…" her brows fell over her eyes as she turned to look at the blond man.

Jane didn't respond, continuing to hum his little tune obliviously.

"JANE!" Rigsby got his attention and Jane turned to look at them, blinking curiously.

"Yes?"

Van Pelt sighed, "Malcolm Finch."

"Oh, uh… hmm… It's not him." He said after a moment.

"How can you be sure?"

"Because Finch was just a paranoid little man who thought his wife was cheating on him with me." Jane said, with a rueful smile on his face. "He was half right, of course, and he dropped the whole thing when I gave him the real culprit's name."

"You're serious?" Rigsby asked, raising a brow.

"Of course." Jane nodded. "Once he got the name he gladly left me alone."

"But…" Van Pelt frowned. "How did you know who she was sleeping with?"

"It was her son's tutor," Jane shrugged. "Melinda Finch was one of my, uh, clients. It was obvious she was being unfaithful and one meeting with the tutor told me who she was being unfaithful with. There are always little signs that give people away, Grace; you just have to watch for them."

Kristina laughed gently, shaking her head.

"Do I amuse you, Kristina?" Jane asked, sitting up and raising a brow at the woman.

She smiled, "Yes, Patrick." She nodded. "It's fascinating to hear you so vehemently and aggressively deny the ability to be in touch with the 'supernatural', as you put it, when you yourself have the very same gift."

Jane rolled his eyes, "Oh so we're back to that, are we?"

Kristina just smiled and shook her head.

Van Pelt and Rigsby glanced at each other and Rigsby leaned forward, "What about Matthew Kingston."

Jane's brows lifted for a moment, "Oh, I haven't thought about him in years… Interesting man. Very angry."

"Yeah, it says here he promised to, uh, 'rip out your cold, dead heart and shove it down your throat'." Rigsby frowned, staring at the computer screen.

Jane chuckled, "Not very creative, but what do you expect? He was a computer analyst, not a poet."

"A computer analyst who wanted to kill you."

"Well, yes." Jane conceded the point thoughtfully, "That's true too."

"What did you do to him?" Van Pelt asked curiously.

"Oh, well… I told his boss that he was embezzling money from the company. He lost his job, would've went to prison but he was very good at covering his tracks. All he lost was his job, eventually his house and, if I remember correctly, his fiancée at the time broke up with him."

"Oh is that all?" Rigsby muttered sarcastically.

"Mhm." Jane nodded, "You know, you're wasting your time. These are all simple, petty issues. People move on, get over it. I've made a lot of people angry enough to hate me in my life time."

"It seems to be a talent of yours," Kristina remarked lightly.

Jane frowned at her before continuing, "This could take days, weeks even. What we _should _be doing is helping Lisbon and Cho at that bar. Maybe look around the area, talk to people."

"We already did that, Jane." Rigsby sighed.

"Well it never hurts to be thorough." Jane said. "Come on, you don't want to be here, I don't want to be here. The simple solution would be for us to go help Lisbon and Cho at Regalia Bar."

"Jane, we've got orders. Lisbon told us to stay here, so we're staying."

"Bah, since when do orders matter? You're wasting time here and you know it. Come on, forty minutes and we'll be there."

"Jane, Lisbon said no." Van Pelt argued, frowning.

"Actually…" Kristina frowned, standing up with a worried expression on her face. "I think he's right."

"There, see, the fake psychic agrees with me!" Jane gestured emphatically at Kristina, who ignored his 'fake' comment and continued speaking.

"Something's wrong."

"What?" Van Pelt looked concerned, shifting in her seat. "Are they in danger?"

Kristina frowned, "I… it's not very clear, but I believe so, yes. We need to hurry."

Van Pelt looked to Rigsby worriedly and the man frowned, "I don't know, Lisbon said to stay here."

"But what if they are in danger?" Van Pelt asked. "The note did say that someone close to Jane was going to be next and he was watching us at the bar."

Jane looked hopefully at them, eager to get out of the Statehouse as soon as possible. "Alright." Rigsby sighed. "But we're calling them first. To make sure…"

"Come on, Rigsby, if they're in danger they won't answer their cell phones!" Jane argued. "Let's just go."

"You don't even believe she's psychic." Rigsby frowned at him.

"Well, no, of course not."

"So you only don't want me to call because you don't want Lisbon to tell you to stay put."

Jane paused, frowning. "Ok, yes. But that's not the point."

Rigsby shook his head, holding the cell phone up to his head. After a moment, he frowned. "That's odd… Cho's not answering." He tired Lisbon and got the same result, Van Pelt's worried face growing more and more concerned.

"They're not answering."

Jane frowned then, a strange, sick feeling forming in his gut as he glanced back at Kristina. What if she was right? What if Lisbon were hurt and it was all to get to him? He didn't know that he'd ever be able to forgive him if that happened. "We have to get there." He said, a new urgency in his voice as he spoke. "Now."

**~/.\~**

It was getting dark out by the time they arrived at the alley, nearing seven o'clock. Jane was the first to jump out of the SUV before it had even stopped moving. He spotted Lisbon and Cho's vehicle, sitting outside the bar, and frowned. From the windows inside he could see that there weren't many people in the bar, no sign of Lisbon or Cho…

His eyes wandered to the alley and he jogged toward it, Rigsby, Van Pelt and Kristina behind him.

"Jane, wait! They're supposed to be in the bar, remember?"

"Well, they're not." Jane said, squinting through the darkness as he approached the mouth of the alley. "This is the next logical place for them to have gone."

Kristina wrapped her arms around herself as she came up behind them, "We're too late." She said quietly.

Jane ignored her and stepped into the alley, nearly stumbling over a prone body. A small bubble of panic worked its way into his chest when he looked down and saw Cho lying on the ground, blood on the side of his head, a stark white envelope lying on top of him. He looked unconscious… Jane dropped to his knees immediately, ignoring Rigsby and Grace's surprised gasps.

"Oh my God…" Van Pelt whispered in horror, her hand covering her mouth. "I-Is he…?"

"He's alive." Jane answered her quietly, "Probably has a concussion though… Nasty bump on his head."

"I'll call an ambulance." Rigsby's voice sounded tight as he pulled his cell phone out to dial 911. He was pale and though he tried to hide it, his hands were shaking. Jane, still kneeling on the ground, was trying not to think about the fact that Lisbon was nowhere to be seen. He didn't like the feeling that the thought gave him.

His hand shook slightly with tremors when he reached out and snatched the envelope from Cho's body.

"Jane," Van Pelt's voice was a soft warning. "Fingerprints."

"Is it more important to follow procedure or try and save Lisbon?" Jane's voice was sharper than he'd intended but Van Pelt nodded sadly and watched as he shook the paper out of the envelope and read the newest message.

_"Mr. Jane,_

_Once again you find yourself two steps behind me. I'm actually surprised. Wasn't Agent Lisbon the obvious choice? I suppose you wouldn't want to admit that though._

_Don't despair just yet, however. She's still alive and for the most part, unharmed. She'll remain that way until sunrise tomorrow morning. If you can find her by then, you can save her. If not, she will die._

_You only have a few hours, so I'll narrow your search a bit. She's near the river, Mr. Jane. Near it, but not in it. Yet._

_Have fun."_

Jane's fingers curled around the paper in his hands and he hurled it away from himself angrily. "Damn it!" he swore.

Van Pelt and Rigsby met eyes for a moment, concern flickering there.

"Jane, we're going to find her." She whispered quietly. "It's going to be okay."

Jane stood from his crouch, shaking his head and leaving the alley.

"Jane!" Van Pelt started to chase after him. "Where are you going?"

"For a walk." Jane's answer was a bit terse. He shoved his hands deep into his pockets and turned right, ambling down the dark sidewalk with a grim expression on his face, leaving Kristina and the agents looking worried and scared, staring after him.

**~/.\~**

Rigsby and Van Pelt stood around Cho's bed in the hospital, waiting. Kristina had gone to the cafeteria a few minutes earlier and the room was in total silence. They hadn't seen Jane since he'd taken off at the alley and they'd been at the hospital with Cho since the ambulance had arrived. Van Pelt had her laptop with her and was crosschecking anyone on their list of potential suspects with properties near the river. So far, the search had gleaned her nothing but a headache and an ever growing pit of worry in her stomach.

Rigsby was sitting across from her, holding a bag of peanuts in his hand, unopened. He didn't quite have the stomach to eat. He was staring off into space for a long time, wondering what they were supposed to do…

Both agents jumped in surprise when they heard a low groan coming from the bed and Cho's eyes blinked open blearily. "What are you two doing sitting around?" was the first thing that came out of his mouth.

"We were waiting for you to wake up." Rigsby answered, a faint smile of relief on his face.

"I'm awake now." Cho's voice was a bit strained, and his head was pounding furiously, but the doctors had cleaned the blood away and stitched him up. His entire body was aching and if he tried too hard to focus on something, the room spun dizzily. "Lisbon and I were attacked,"

"We know." Van Pelt sighed, "Jane found a note…"

"Where's Lisbon?"

"Gone. Killer took her, but he claims she's still alive."

"She is." Kristina's voice turned their attention to the door. "She's alive, but in danger."

Cho frowned, "I didn't get a good look at the guy. Six feet, at least. Dark hair. He was dressed in black, wearing something to cover his face." He tried to remember, but it made his head hurt even worse and he scowled in frustration.

"His note said that Lisbon was near the river…" Van Pelt told him. "So we're looking into places out there. Maybe we'll get lucky."

"Mhm." Cho nodded, "Where's Jane."

"He took a walk. Haven't seen him since." Rigsby said. "We've tried calling him, but he's not answering."

Cho tossed the blanket back and stood, wobbling a bit a first. "Where are my clothes?"

"Cho, you've got a concussion, you need to rest," Van Pelt insisted.

"I can rest later. Right now, Lisbon is missing and Jane took off again. That's never a good thing." He spotted his clothes folded up by the bed and grabbed them, yanking his pants on before shedding the awful hospital gown he was wearing to pull on his dirty and bloodied shirt. "Where's my gun?" he demanded when he didn't find it.

"Cho, really, rest." Rigsby told him. "We've got this."

"Seriously, where's my gun?" Cho demanded. His head was spinning, his body was aching, but he wasn't going to sit in a hospital bed feeling useless because he'd taken a hit to the head.

"In the car." Rigsby sighed. "With Lisbon's."

"Good, let's go. We can get more work done at the Statehouse than we can in a hospital room."

"Cho-"

"I'm fine. Let's go." Cho didn't wait for another response, already heading out the door with a determined look in his eyes. As he pulled the door open and stepped out he nearly ran right into one Patrick Jane.

"Ah, Cho, you're awake!" Jane flashed a grin at the man. "Just the man I wanted to talk to."

"I didn't see his face." Cho said before Jane could even ask his next question. "It was dark and he-"

"Wore a mask, I assume, yes." Jane nodded, locking eyes with him for a moment, a grim look on his face as the smile vanished. "He's too careful not to. That's not what I wanted to know…"

"Well then what did you want to know?"

"The security cameras in and around the bar… none of them were pointed at the alley, yes?"

Cho looked confused, "Yeah. Which means they didn't see our killer."

"Ah, but here's the thing… You would've noticed a car sitting outside of the alley, so where did he park? There's no way he carried Lisbon very far."

Cho's eyes sparked. "And even if we don't see his face, we can run the plates."

"Exactly! We need to hurry."

"I'll call and get the footage." Van Pelt was already on her phone as she closed the laptop and the agents hurried out of the hospital room, Cho's feet swaying just a bit as they approached the nurses' station to get his release forms.

Jane lingered for a moment and Kristina came up behind him. "You really do care about her." She said quietly.

"What?" he frowned and turned to face her, confused.

"Agent Lisbon. She means a lot to you."

Jane frowned, "She's my colleague. My boss."

"You're friend." Kristina supplied with a faint smile.

His eyes narrowed, "Yes, and my friend. All of them are my friends… at least I'd like to think so." He admitted.

"Do you really not see it?"

"See what?"

"How much they all truly care about you. They'd risk almost anything to help you, Patrick."

Jane glanced down the hall where the three agents were currently arguing with a nurse. "Yeah…" he looked sad for a moment. "But no one said that was a good thing."

**~/.\~**

Lisbon woke in a dark, cold room. A single, bare bulb swung from the ceiling and she grimaced at the invasion of light. Her head was killing her… Slowly, she blinked away the spots and looked around the place, assessing her surroundings.

Her hands were tied behind her back with something rough, probably rope. There was a cloth or something like it tied tightly around her head, gagging her. She was sitting in a hard, wooden chair. The space wasn't very large, looking around she saw garden sheers, a wheel barrow, and shovels. A tool shed or something similar.

At first, she thought she was alone, but then she heard a faint shuffling behind her and a tall man walked into her line of sight.

"Ah, awake at last, Agent Lisbon." His voice was smooth, cultured. He was tall, slender. Dressed in all black, wearing a mask to cover his face. The man who had attacked her.

She tried to say something, an angry scowl on her face, but the gag muffled her words.

He chuckled and stepped forward, pulling the gag down gently. "Yes, Agent?" he asked curiously.

"What do you want?"

"Nothing much." He answered, leaning against the narrow table across from her. "You're in no real danger as of now. Come sunrise, though, if Mr. Jane hasn't found us, I'll have to kill you."

Lisbon blinked, "Let me rephrase my question…" she frowned. "Why are you doing this?"

"Ah, an excellent question." The man sounded elated and she could hear the grin in his voice. "One I, unfortunately, cannot answer. You see, that is for Mr. Jane to figure out."

She thought about that for a moment. "Is that why you want him to come here?"

"Oh, yes. I'm counting on it, in fact."

"You do realize that when he shows up he'll have a team of state agents with him, right?"

He sighed, "Yes, but they won't waste their time out here in an old tool shed. They'll check the house first, and you know it."

Lisbon frowned, getting an odd feeling in her stomach.

"Mr. Jane won't be able to go inside, he's not an agent. But if I know him, he'll want to do anything he can to save you."

She frowned, "Jane's not stupid. He knows he can't go inside during a raid."

"But that's just it, he won't go in. While everyone else is inside, searching and empty house, I'll be out here, waiting for him to come to me."

She understood finally. "You want him to come out here… so that you can kill him?" her eyes were wide.

"Precisely. … Well, nearly. I can't kill him out here. That's so uncivilized and boring. Besides, he hasn't suffered nearly enough yet. And as I said, he doesn't even know who I am or why this is happening. Revenge is no fun if he doesn't know what he's suffering for."

"Did I not mention the state agents?" Lisbon frowned. "They'll be all over this place. You can't kidnap Jane without them noticing."

"Once again, Agent Lisbon, you are wrong. I can take him, and I will. They won't realize what's happened until it's too late. All you have to do is sit tight and everything will work out fine. Unless Mr. Jane is truly as ignorant a fool as he's proven himself to be, in which case I'm sad to say I'll have to kill you and move on to another lovely member of your team. Hopefully it won't take him long to figure this out." He chuckled lightly to himself.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some things to prepare." He leaned forward and replaced the gag on her mouth, his fingers deftly avoiding her teeth when she tried to bite him. He laughed again. "Agent Lisbon, please. Things will go much more smoothly if you'll behave yourself. Now sit there and be quite. I have a feeling this is going to be fun…"

**~~/~~**

**A/N2: Ah, there's closing in. Next chapter will take us right through the prologue, I promise! Almost there!**

**Hope you guys enjoyed the chapter! Please let me know! Your opinions and support mean a lot!**


	9. Chapter Eight

**A/N: Thanks so much for your reviews! And thanks to MentalistLover for the anonymous review! And thanks as well to KsandraMallan for adding this to story alert!**

**I'm sorry for leaving you guys like that; I have a weakness for cliffhangers ;) It's a sadistic little pleasure of mine LOL**

**Glad you guys are still enjoying the story!**

**Please review, any comments or criticisms that you have are always welcome!**

**~~/~~**

_**Chapter Eight**_

_**~~/~~**_

"Eureka!" Van Pelt suddenly looked up from her computer screen, a hopeful light in her eyes. "I've got his car. It's a dark SUV, newer model…" she motioned to the screen, showing the agents, plus Jane and Kristina, the image of a dark SUV parked not far from the alley, just outside of the New 2 U consignment shop.

"Can you zoom in on the plates?" Cho asked, pointed to a small, white rectangle near the back of the vehicle.

Grace smiled, "I can. Just give me a second." Her fingers moved on the keyboard quickly as she clicked on the area and dragged the mouse cursor over it briefly. An image of the tag appeared on the screen, blown up. The dark letters and numbers were a bit blurry but still very readable and the agents took a moment to grin and silently cheer in their heads. They were one step closer to figuring out where their boss was.

"Run it." Cho said, straightening up and putting a hand gently to his head. Everything was still a bit hard to focus on, but he was determined to stay in the game as long as it took to find Lisbon.

Van Pelt was already doing just that while Rigsby and Cho moved away from the desk, getting ready to grab their vests and call an entry team to meet them at the residence of whoever owned that vehicle.

Jane was frowning slightly, "It almost seems too easy…" he murmured. "He was smart enough to not get caught coming or going before, but this time he parks right where the cameras will catch his plates…"

"C'mon, Jane, he made a careless mistake. Every killer does. We caught a break."

"I'm not so sure…"

"The vehicle is registered to a Howard Stanton. He owns a small home right near the river."

"Howard Stanton?" Jane frowned, tilting his head. "I don't know that name…"

"You can't remember every crazy person you ticked off, can you?" Rigsby shrugged, checking the clip in his gun before sliding it into his holster. "Get the address to the entry team and let's roll."

"Actually…" Jane frowned, watching as Van Pelt and Cho mimicked Rigsby's actions. "I can. And I have never met anyone with that name before…"

"Jane, c'mon, you aren't infallible." Rigsby sighed, "You don't remember the dude. We'll figure out what you did to piss him off when we get Lisbon back. We're wasting time." The three of them were already heading down the hall toward the elevators, Cho with a phone pressed to his ear, talking in clipped, terse sentences.

Jane watched them for a moment, frowning. He could almost feel Kristina's eyes on him, watching. Penetrating. He glanced back at her and pressed his lips together, suddenly feeling just a bit awkward. "I should… go." He started to head toward the hall and meet up with the others on the elevator when Kristina suddenly reached out and grabbed his arm, stopping him.

"Wait…"

Jane frowned, "I don't have time for this now, I –"

"This is a bad idea."

"Saving Lisbon is a bad idea?" Jane demanded, snatching his arm back from her fingers and turning to leave again.

"You shouldn't go, Patrick. I have a bad feeling. It's not going to end well." Kristina's voice was ominous, a dark, foreboding warning that left and odd pit in Jane's stomach. But he ignored it and continued forward. Things were already bad, how much worse could they really get anyway?

**~/.\~**

Lisbon wasn't entirely sure how long she had been sitting in that small, uncomfortable little chair, but she was certain that it had been a very long time. At least a couple of hours. The dim light of dusk was long since gone, now the night had crept in and there was nothing but darkness to be seen outside of the small window in the shed. Her mysterious captor had not returned since he'd left to prepare his 'things', whatever those 'things' may be.

She was aching from sitting in the same position, her shoulders throbbed and her head was pounding mercilessly. She was tired, hungry, thirsty and emotionally and mentally exhausted. All she really wanted was a long, warm shower and her bed. Maybe a drink to dull the pain, but no more than one. And sleep. But she couldn't have any of that.

Sleep wasn't even an option for her. She was certain she had a concussion and while she had no idea how serious that concussion might be, she wasn't willing to chance anything. Besides that, she knew she had to be awake when – because she refused to think 'if' – Jane and the team showed up. She had to warn them.

So instead, she kept herself busy. At first, she counted the number of shovels and trowels that littered the small, dirty work table. When that was done, several times over, she counted the boards in the floor. As her eyes started to droop and her mind wound down, she thought of something less pleasant. Things she otherwise wouldn't have dared to think of.

Her past, nightmares she had nearly every night, her family, Jane… Her gut twisted oddly at thinking of what might happen if Jane were hurt. She didn't want that. Despite the numerous times she'd threatened to shoot him – and sincerely meant it, she might add – she didn't hate the man. Annoying, yes. But in an almost endearing and loveable way. She somehow felt an overwhelming need to protect him. Though from what, at this point, she had no idea. Red John? Himself?

She was pulled out of her thoughts when she heard the sound of a car, more than one maybe, driving up nearby and coming to a stop. Then a faint, quiet hum that must've been voices. They were here.

She sat up a bit straighter in her chair, wishing she could see more out the window. Instead, she kept her eyes locked on the door of the tool shed. She wondered if the killer would come back before anyone thought to search here, or if perhaps he'd made some miscalculation. Maybe taking care of his 'things' had taken longer than expected and they were going to find her and get away from this place safely without having to worry…

The thought brought her some hope, for a moment. Until the door of the shed began to open and standing before her was none other than Patrick Jane.

She started screaming, trying to tell him to get out and get the rest of the team out there, but he didn't seem to understand. The gag in her mouth probably helped that…

The look of sheer relief in his eyes nearly killed her as he rushed to her side and began untying the ropes. "It's alright, Lisbon. Don't worry. Cho, Rigsby and Van Pelt are all here. We'll have you out of here soon."

She nearly burst a lung trying to tell him to stop and just walk away. Damn it, was the man that blind? She shook her head vehemently, wishing he'd at least take off the stupid gag so she could scream at him properly. As soon as she felt the itching, chaffing rope fall away from her wrists she tore the gag away from her lips, too a deep breath and glared at the blond man.

"Jane are you insane! Why did you come in here alone?" Jesus, the idiot was doing exactly what the killer wanted him to do. This could not end well, they needed to leave _now_. Maybe, hopefully, everyone was nearby and they could get to cover fast before anything truly bad happened.

"Where are the others?" she demanded.

Jane looked at her, an amused Jane-like smile spreading across his face for a moment. "You're welcome." He said cheerily, if a bit sarcastically. She glared knives at him and the smile vanished, to her great pleasure.

"We need to get out of here." Her voice was tight, urgent. She could not allow him to stand there one second longer, not when any second the killer could show up and everything would be ruined.

He frowned at her, "Well, of course." He said simply, nodding. "I-"

"I mean right now, Jane!" She practically screamed at him, grabbing his arm in a surprisingly powerful grip and tugging him forward.. "It's at trap, damn it! Let's go –"

She suddenly stopped talking and moving as the door to the shed scraped open once again and then shut. Now standing in the doorway was the man from before, tall, slender. Dressed all in black. She felt her stomach twist as the sight. Damn it… Her eyes fell immediately on the dark, sleek gun he was pointing at them and she swallowed.

"Mr. Jane," the man spoke, breaking the tense silence. His voice was the same as before, calm, cultured. Predatory. A slick, evil smile was dancing in his eyes as he stared at Jane yet Lisbon couldn't seem to turn her eyes away from the killer as he waved the gun. "Step away from Agent Lisbon please, Mr. Jane."

She was vaguely aware of Jane complying to man's demands, but everything she heard seemed a bit muffled as Jane and the man spoke. She couldn't really see much else except for the gun. And though he hid it well, Jane's fear was rolling off of him in waves. She swallowed again, her eyes darting from the gun to the killer's masked face. She heard the man laugh, and wondered what Jane had said that amused him.

_Damn it_, _focus!_ She screamed at herself.

She knew the signs. She watched as the man's fingers tightened around the gun, his body going a bit more rigid as he prepare to take a shot. She blinked, horror suddenly filling her.

No. No way in hell was she going to stand by and watch Patrick Jane die. It was _not _going to happen. She distantly thought she heard the man say "…This." Then her ear drums felt like they'd exploded as the gun fired.

She wasn't sure when she made the conscious decision to move, but she did and as she leapt across the small space between Jane and herself, she suddenly screamed, crashing to the floor as the most excruciating pain she'd ever felt ripped like fire through her abdomen. She felt the pain, then the dizziness as she slammed on top of Jane. She heard movement, but everything was dim and black and tinged with pain. Lots and lots of pain.

She'd never been shot before… She had imagined what it might feel like, but even her imagination hadn't been this bad. It was burning, aching, throbbing, tear-jerking. Horrible. She grimaced and let out a low groan as she felt her body being shifted and then hands were on her, gentle, concerned hands.

Her eyes fluttered open and despite the pain she looked up into the horrified eyes of Patrick Jane. "Lisbon…" his voice broke. She had never seen him so broken. Never imagined what Jane must look like when he dropped the shields he wore daily. It wasn't a pretty picture.

She swallowed roughly, trying to force words out of her throat. Trying to tell him to leave her and run, but the words wouldn't come and then a dark, terrible figure loomed above them both and she could only watch as the gun was lifted and brought down with brutal force on the back of Jane's skull. _No… this isn't happening…_

The man reached down and grabbed Jane roughly, taking no care to be gentle with him as he yanked his limp form off the ground and began dragging him away. "I'm sorry we had to part like this, Agent Lisbon. I truly didn't want to have to hurt you, but alas, it had to be done in order to get Mr. Jane where I wanted him."

Her vision was getting darker, her body felt heavy, her head was light… Dear God, was she dying? She tried to call out, to beg him to stop. To say anything that might keep Jane safe and with her, but still no words came and it was all too soon that dreaded, blissful darkness washed over her once again.

**~/.\~**

The first thing Jane felt was the pain. He'd never experienced a pain quite so astute, physically, that is. Psychologically, mentally, emotionally… he'd had much worse. But never physically had he hurt this much. The pain started at the back of his head, a sharp, angry throb, and somehow continued to radiate through most of his upper body.

His legs felt numb and when he tried to shift in his seat he realized that his hands were behind his back… only they weren't tied with rope. A sharp metal bit into his wrist that he was familiar enough with to know he was handcuffed. Brilliant. He opened his eyes slowly, carefully, but it made no difference because he couldn't see. At first, he panicked, thinking he'd gone blind, but then he realized it was simply a blindfold.

He was sitting in some room, handcuffed and blindfolded. Alone, from the lack of sound. It was eerily quiet. No breathing other than his own, no sound of shuffling feet or rustling clothes or dripping pipes. Nothing but his own breathing and silence. He wished the blindfold was gone, at least that would give him a chance to look at his surroundings, figure out how good his chances of escape were.

Instead, he tried to ignore the pounding in his head and focus on what his senses could tell him. It was cold, the air was a bit damp… A basement, maybe. He couldn't stop the scoff that escaped his lips. How incredibly cliché of him.

He couldn't hear anything beyond his own breathing, which meant thick concrete walls that worked both ways. He couldn't hear what was happening outside, and people nearby wouldn't hear what was happening inside. Which took 'scream for help' off of his list of possible escape ideas. Alright… what else…

It didn't _feel _like a small space, so perhaps it was a larger room. He frowned again, frustrated. It would be so much easier if he could see. He would be able to tell what the man was planning, were there any weapons around… Perhaps this was his revenge. Leavehim trapped down here until he starved to death. Or died of dehydration. He doubted that very much though; this man was after something personal and starvation wasn't a personal enough manner to kill him.

He heard a door open somewhere and then a faint creaking of stairs, confirming that he was indeed in a basement somewhere.

"Ah, Mr. Jane, you're awake." The man's voice was the same as before. Calm, pleasant even. Unnerving.

Jane decided the first and best thing to do would be to show him no fear. Play along. "Yes, though I have to say it wasn't a pleasant nap. My head is killing me. You wouldn't happen to have any Tylenol would you? Or ibuprofen, perhaps?"

His head suddenly rocked roughly to one side and he saw stars as the man backhanded him. "Shut up." There it was. The hatred Jane knew had to be there. It eked out of his voice like venom now. He smiled and ignored the twinge he got from the action. The man had split his lower lip, but otherwise he was still fine.

"It was just a simple question." He said easily. "Yes or no, that's all I wanted to hear."

Another backhand, sending his head in the other direction. He had to shake away the dizziness that time and he cleared his throat.

"I'll, uh, take that as a 'no' then." He said.

The man growled angrily and Jane felt fingers on his face suddenly, tugging at the blindfold. As much as he wanted to be able to see, the blindfold was his one and only hope that perhaps the man wouldn't kill him. He tried to jerk his head back. "That's, uh, not really necessary, I –"

But it was too late, the dark strip of fabric fell from his eyes and he blinked, doing everything he possibly could to suppress the overwhelming fear that tried to consume him. He swallowed hard and looked around the space. A large basement then, he'd been right. Dark, cold. A bit damp. There was a tool table sitting a few feet in front of him. Lying neatly on the table was a vast array of knives and cutlery.

He felt a little sick and looked away quickly, turning to see the man in front of him.

Just like before, he was dressed in all black, standing at ease in front of him. Only this time, the mask was gone and he could see his face. An unfamiliar face. He wasn't more than forty years old, handsome. His eyes were a dark, focused brown and his hair was a sandy color somewhere between dark blond and light brown. It was neatly trimmed, he was clean shaven. A man of power or money. Perhaps both, as the two often go hand in hand. But for the life of him, Jane had no clue who he was.

The man's face broke out in a grin, "You don't recognize me, do you Mr. Jane?" he asked pleasantly.

Jane didn't respond, not entirely sure what to say anymore.

His grin grew wider. "Don't worry, you'll remember soon enough. I'll make sure of that." He strolled over toward the table with the knives and lightly ran a finger down one of the blades. "I'll carve it into your flesh if I have to."

Jane felt the first sliver of true fear slip through his veins. Not much scared him anymore, but this man… this man was one of the exceptions. When he lifted a small blade from the table and turned toward him again Jane realized that he was in far deeper trouble than he could have possible imagined…

_**~~/~~**_

**A/N2: Heh, see… I love cliffhangers X)**

**Hope you guys enjoyed it! Let me know what you think! I'm ALWAYS open to comments and criticisms! Please let me know!**


	10. Chapter Nine

**A/N: Thanks to MentalistLover, Ani, KsandraMallan, Anna and Sabsi13 for their reviews! They mean a lot to me ;) And thanks to Sonseeahray, Trinaluv33, Sabsi13 and scrubslova for adding this to favorites! And thanks to Trinaluv33 for adding this to alerts!**

**Your support means a lot guys, thanks!**

**And yes, I am a cruel person for leaving you with the cliffhangers, but compared to some of the cliffhangers I've written in the past, you guys have it easy ;) I'll TRY not to be so mean though… doubt it'll work X)**

**Please review, anything you feel you have to say; your comments are always welcome!**

**~~/~~**

_**Chapter Nine**_

_**~~/~~**_

"Clear!" Rigsby called as he entered the study at the end of the hall. That was it. All of the rooms were empty. Nothing suspicious or out of place anywhere and no sign that anyone had even been in the house for the last few days.

Van Pelt came up behind him with a confused frown on her face, "This doesn't make any sense." She murmured. "The vehicle the killer was driving definitely belonged to Howard Stanton."

"Maybe it was stolen." Cho suggested, "To throw us off."

"But the note he left did say Lisbon was near the river…" Rigsby pointed out.

"You're right, it is weird." Cho nodded, "He led us right here. Why would he do that?"

The three agents frowned, thinking for a long moment when suddenly, Van Pelt's eyes widened. "Jane!" she gasped. "We left him outside!"

Worry flickered on Cho and Rigsby's faces as they turned to head back outside, hoping to find their consultant pouting by the car where they'd left him when the loud piercing sound of a gunshot suddenly broke the stillness of the night, followed quickly by a scream.

"Where was that from?" Rigsby frowned as they as skidded to a stop, looking around bewildered.

"Not in here. Must've come from outside." Cho said, drawing his weapon and hurrying to the door, nearly shoving it off the hinges in his efforts to get outside. "Damn it…. Where's Jane?" he swore as he looked around, finding no sign of their consultant anywhere.

"There's nothing…" Van Pelt frowned, "Where could that shot have come from…?" She squinted her eyes in the darkness and looked around, trying to find some sign of their killer or Jane anywhere.

"Tool shed!" Rigsby spotted it first and they took off running again, Rigsby in the lead as he shouldered the door open, gun in front of himself protectively. "CBI! … Oh God…" At first, he thought the tiny little shed was empty, but then he spotted Lisbon on the ground in a puddle of blood, her eyes shut tight, not moving.

"We need an ambulance!" he snapped unnecessarily as Van Pelt had already whipped her phone out of her pocket, her face ashen, hands shaking. It had been bad enough finding Cho unconscious on the ground, to find Lisbon shot and bleeding out on the floor was taking it to a new and more terrifying level.

Rigsby and Cho dropped to their boss's side with wide eyes. "She's alive." The relief seeped out of Cho's normally deadpan voice as he gently pressed his fingers to his her throat. "But losing blood fast…"

The two men quickly found the source of the blood emanating from her lower abdomen and pressed their hands to the messy wound. "Do you think she's gonna make it…?" Rigsby sounded uncertain, glancing up at his colleagues with fear in his eyes.

"Of course." Cho said simply. "She's not gonna die, especially not to make Jane suffer."

"Ambulance is on its way," Van Pelt said, snapping her cell phone shut. "They'll be here in about five minutes…"

"Wait a minute…" Rigsby frowned, thinking about Cho's last comment. "Where _is_ Jane?"

Suddenly, the fear returned ten-fold.

"Crap…"

"I look." Van Pelt said, sliding her gun from the holster at her hip. "You two stay with Lisbon."

**~/.\~**

Jane swallowed heavily as the man approached him, that creepy smile never wavering on his face.

"Heh… um… Th-that's not really necessary." Jane said, his eyes on the knife, the dim light dancing on the gleaming blade. His voice shook just slightly and he mentally berated himself. He needed to stay calm and assess the situation as best he could. Do something to try and stop this madness before the man killed him.

"Oh?" the man raised a brow, looking thoughtful. "Would you rather I was doing this to your lovely friends at the CBI then?"

Jane pressed his lips together, shaking his head. "No, not at all I just…" he frowned, trailing off. A thought sparked in his mind and he remembered something. Lisbon had been shot. How had he forgotten that? Of course, he could have blamed it on the concussion he likely had...

He paled and wet his lips anxiously, "Um… speaking of my colleagues… Where exactly is Agent Lisbon?"

"Oh why so formal?" The man grinned, "She's more than just your colleague and you know it."

"No, I –"

"Do. Not. Interrupt. Me!" the man was suddenly right in front of him, the knife sparkling dangerously in his hand.

"Ok. I'm sorry." Jane's eyes were wide. "It won't happen again."

"Good." The man glared at him and took a small step back. "Agent Lisbon _is _more than simply a colleague, Mr. Jane. You care for her, maybe even more than you're willing to admit, but it's obvious that you do."

Jane waited a few moments to speak again, making sure that he wasn't interrupting the man this time. "So… Where is Lisbon?" he asked again, hopeful and scared to hear the answer at the same time. What if she were already dead? That would have definitely been his fault, not just because the killer had taken her to get to him, but also because she'd jumped in front of a bullet meant for him.

The man smiled, "Still lying on the floor of that tool shed, I suppose. Or, more likely, on the way to a hospital in the back of an ambulance. Your other colleagues probably found her shortly after I fired the shot."

Jane felt a little better hearing that. At least for now she was being taken care of. That raised her odds considerably compared to what they could have been if the killer had decided to take her with him.

The man suddenly spoke, playing idly with the knife in his hands as he did. "Are you a God-fearing man, Mr. Jane?"

**~/.\~**

"Lisbon's in surgery." Rigsby sighed as he came away from the desk and sank down into a chair in the waiting room. "They aren't sure when she'll be out."

"Forensics are checking the shed for evidence." Cho said, staring off into space, not focusing on anything. "If there's something we can use, they'll find it."

"They did find tread marks behind the tool shed," Van Pelt said, her lap top sitting on her lap, though at the moment she wasn't sure what she really should be searching for. "They're going to cast them and try to find a match. Maybe we'll get lucky."

"I doubt it." Cho frowned. "So far, the only 'luck' we've had in this case came because the killer wanted us to find something. He's got Jane now, he's not going to make another mistake."

"Well, maybe he doesn't have Jane." Van Pelt said, her voice forcefully hopeful. "Maybe… Jane just went for a walk like he does."

"Then why did we find his cell phone in the shed?"

The young agent deflated, looking sad. "We are going to find him, right?"

"Of course." Rigsby assured her. "We're not gonna give up when Jane needs us."

She smiled faintly, nodding.

"Agents?" a young doctor walked up to them, holding a plastic bag in his hands. "These are Agent Lisbon's clothes." He passed the bag to Cho before holding up a smaller baggie. "We, uh, found this in her pocket, it fell out."

He handed that to Cho as well and stood there nervously for a moment before hurrying back through the doors he came in. The bag contained a small card, like a business card. Blank on one side. On the other side, were five words. Five words that nearly sank the hearts of the three agents.

_"Say goodbye to Mr. Jane."_

Van Pelt's eyes were watery. "He has Jane." She said, her voice a hoarse whisper.

"But he's gotta be alive, right?" Rigsby asked, frowning worriedly. "I mean… this guy wouldn't just go through all this trouble to get Jane and just kill him, would he?"

"You're right." Cho nodded grimly. "He'd torture him first, then kill him."

"Oh my God." Van Pelt's hand went to her mouth, horror in her eyes. "We have to find him…"

"We will." Cho's voice was determined and hard, a slight, barely detectable hint of anger there. "We'll start with Howard Stanton. Find everything you can on him and see if he has a connection with Jane at all."

Van Pelt nodded, turning to the laptop on her lap, determination flickering in her eyes and covering up most of the tears that still blurred her vision.

"We're going to find him." Rigsby squeezed her hand gently and she looked up, nodding sharply.

"You bet we are."

**~/.\~**

Jane was a bit thrown by the question, which wasn't a common occurrence for him. He wasn't sure if he should lie or tell the truth… he figured for the time being, honesty was the best policy. If that didn't work, he'd start lying. "…No." he said slowly.

"Hmm, why not?"

Jane raised a brow, "Because…" he said slowly, as if it should have been painfully obvious. "There is no such thing as 'God', there is no afterlife. We're born, we live, we die. Most of the time with very little to show for ourselves between being born and dying."

"Very true…" the man nodded. "But that doesn't mean that God isn't a real entity, sitting on the throne in Heaven. He'll cast judgment over your soul one day, Mr. Jane. What do you think he'll say?"

"Well, hypothetically, if this 'God' of yours existed, I suppose he wouldn't be too pleased with me." Jane conceded. "But that's my problem, isn't it? You should be more concerned about yourself if you believe that your life is going to be judged. What would he say about what you're doing right now?"

"Touché." The man smiled, nodding. "'_Vengeance is mine, thus saith the Lord' _… but I can always ask for forgiveness later."

"Hm." Jane frowned. "Not a very powerful sentiment, I've got to say. You can torture and murder someone, yet claim to believe if a merciful 'God' and still plan to get into Heaven because you can say you were sorry and your sins all go away. Don't you have to mean it though? And what if you don't get the chance to ask for atonement in the first place?"

The man smiled softly, shrugging. "Then I suppose I'll have to pay the price for my actions." He admitted.

"Huh…" Jane frowned. "So, let me get this straight… _I'm _worth going to Hell over?"

Theman chuckled. "Not at all, Mr. Jane. But your suffering most certainly is worth going to Hell over."

"…Interesting…" Jane frowned thoughtfully. "You know, I think I've figured this out…"

"Oh really? Then tell me, Mr. Jane, who am I?"

"Oh, not that. I still have no idea who you are. But I'm pretty sure I know why you're doing this."

"Please, tell." The man smiled patiently at him, one finger sliding along the blade of the knife in his hands as he stared at Jane.

"You're insane. Delusional. Believing in mythical 'God's and false retribution… You, my friend, belong in a State Hospital."

"State Hospital…" the man spoke softly, "You mean like the one you were in?"

Jane's throat seemed to close in on itself. "How do you know about that?" he demanded, his voice tight as he stared at the man in shock.

The man chuckled, "I know all about you, Mr. Jane. About your father, your childhood, your career as a 'psychic', the murder of your family… I know everything."

"How. Do. You. Know. That?"

He smiled softly at Jane, "A friend told me."

"A friend?" Jane frowned, "What friend?"

"A friend who's very interested in you, Mr. Jane."

"What's his name?" Jane pressed, frowning at the man. "Tell me!" he nearly screamed, his eyes wide and focused intently on the man before him.

The man frowned, a light flickering in his eyes. Jane noticed the anger sparking there and saw the knife coming before it hit. The man lashed out, knife glittering in his hand and struck Jane across the cheek, leaving a long and shallow cut along the left side of his face, from his temple to his jaw.

Jane gasped, grimacing in shock as blood flowed freely from the new wound. It throbbed and stung, but Jane knew it could have been far worse.

The man took a deep breath and stepped back, running his free hand through his hair before studying the blade, now wet with Jane's blood, with a smile on his face. "I think that's enough talk, Mr. Jane… We have other business to attend to, don't you agree?"

_**~~/~~**_

**A/N2: So… I suppose that counts as another cliffhanger… ah well X)**

**Lisbon should be waking up from her surgery next chapter…**

**Hope you guys enjoyed it! Please let me know what you think! Opinions and comments are always welcome!**


	11. Chapter Ten

**A/N: Thanks so much to Trinaluv33, Time Lady 802379, Sabsi13, KsandraMallan and MentalistLover for the reviews! And thanks to miriab for adding this to story alert and thanks to KsandraMallan for adding this to favorites! I really appreciate all of your support!**

**Heh, so… I did tell you that I would TRY not to leave you with cliffhangers… I never said I would succeed. Sorry guys, I simply cannot resist the urge to torture you X) Forgive me? Pwease?**

**Onto chapter 10! Yay Jane Pain! Err… I meant… Uh… Torture is totally wrong…. Yeah, sure… let's go with that…**

**~~/~~**

_**Chapter Ten**_

_**~~/~~**_

Van Pelt frowned, her eyes burning a bit. It was nearly eleven o'clock at night and the only reason they were still allowed at the hospital was because Cho and Rigsby had argued with the nurses that Lisbon would want to be immediately informed about any new information they had on the case. And they added that if she woke up alone, Lisbon would be ten times more angry than she would have been otherwise.

It was, at least, a good thing some of the staff was familiar enough with the team from previous encounters. Which is how Van Pelt and Rigsby found themselves sitting in Lisbon's hospital room, looking for even a tenuous connection between Howard Stanton and Jane… So far, there was nothing.

"Anything new?" Cho asked, coming back into the room after a brief conversation with Hightower on the phone and checking back in with forensics from Stanton's house.

"Not much." Van Pelt answered, frowning. "Lisbon hasn't even twitched…" She eyed the sleeping woman worriedly. She looked pale, her hair matted and tangled underneath her, eyes closed. There were dark circles under her eyes and IVs hooked up pumping morphine into her. Cords to monitors tangled together, keeping tabs on her breathing, her heart rate, the amount of pain killers she was receiving… She was at least lucky that they hadn't decided to put her on a breathing machine.

"Anything on Stanton's house?" Rigsby asked.

"Nothing. There's no evidence that he's even been there for at least a week. No weapons, no traces of blood… His car is still in the drive, so the killer took off with Jane in a separate vehicle." Cho sighed, sitting across from Rigsby with a frown on his face.

He turned to Van Pelt, "Have you found a connection?"

"Nothing." Van Pelt shook her head. "But I'm pretty sure he's not our killer. He hasn't been in the country, let alone California, for the last two weeks. He's in France, according to his credit card charges, passport and plane tickets. Staying for some company retreat or something. Looks like you were right, the killer stole the car and used it to throw us off. As far as I can tell, there's no connection to Jane."

"What about his family?" Rigsby thought out loud. "Forensics haven't finished with the car yet, but it doesn't look like anything was damaged. Either the guy's a pro or he had access to the vehicle somehow."

"Hm…" Van Pelt frowned, bending down over her laptop when there was a soft knock on the door. Cho stood and opened it to reveal Kristina Frye, her eyes tired and concerned.

"Has she woken yet?" she asked, her eyes falling on the almost frail looking form of Lisbon.

"Not yet." Van Pelt answered sadly. "The doctor's said it would be a few hours and she'll be pretty groggy from the surgery when she does. It might not be until morning…"

"It'll be soon." Kristina said confidently. "That's why I came, I… I had a feeling." She faltered, her eyes growing dark. "Patrick is in danger."

"We know that." Cho said flatly, frowning at her. She had been helpful, yes, but right now, she wasn't really doing anything but intruding as far as he was concerned.

"No, you don't understand." Kristina shook her head, "He's in danger from the man who took him, yes, but there's some wrong. Something … something else."

"What?"

"I can't be sure." Kristina frowned, looking a bit unhappy. "It's not coming in clear, but something is influencing this man. Controlling him somehow. Whatever it is, it's more dangerous than this killer is. And it's influence is very powerful."

"Powerful how?" Van Pelt asked, frowning at the woman.

Kristina looked thoughtful for a moment, "I can't say. It's almost as if there is a … a pull against his plans. Something that's holding him back, something that's scaring him."

The agents frowned, meeting eyes for a moment. "Do you think that the man who took him means to kill him?"

"Yes." Kristina nodded, "He does, but as I said, there is something that's giving him pause. I can't quite say what it is, but there's something."

"But that's good isn't it?" Rigsby frowned. "It means that the killer might not kill Jane."

"No." Kristina shook her head. "Whatever it is, it's not friendly. Not at all… there's a distinct anger attached to it. Maybe hatred…"

"Either way, this doesn't look good. We've got to find him. Fast." Cho said, frowning.

Van Pelt nodded and suddenly, a smile spread across her face. "I think I've got something!" She announced. At that same moment, Lisbon, lying on the hospital bed, barely out of surgery for two hours, groaned.

Her green eyes fluttered open and she grimaced against the light before taking in the sight of the worried agents and Kristina standing around her. She winced, a faint, throbbing pain in her gut, and frowned at them. "What the hell are you people doing standing around?"

**~/.\~**

Jane pressed his lips together, trying very hard not to show the man how truly scared he was. He wasn't the biggest fan of knives… or guns, for that matter. Most weapons, come to think of it. He didn't like them. But having a knife in his face, still wet and glistening with his blood… that added a new and cruel level of fear to the mix and he didn't care for it at all.

"Wait…" he tried very hard to keep his voice steady, and was proud to see that other than a faint tremor, he sounded relatively calm at the moment.

The man paused, frowning impatiently. "Mr. Jane, I can assure you, no matter what you do to try and convince me not to hurt you, one way or another, you aren't leaving this room alive."

Jane swallowed, "Well, that sounds very dark and ominous…" he mused. The man narrowed his eyes angrily and took another step forward. "Ah, but… you really don't want to do this. I mean, torture is so… messy and tedious. Especially with knives. You'll get blood everywhere and I know from experience, it's not easy to wash out."

"So you think I should simply kill you and be done with it, is that it?" he raised a brow.

"Ah, well… not really, no." Jane said cautiously. "But, I do think that if you really thought about what you were doing, you'd realize that you don't really want to hurt me."

The man chuckled, "You're wrong, Mr. Jane. I can assure you, I very much want to hurt you. I want to make you suffer the most immense pain you've ever felt in your entire life."

"Well you're a bit late, I'm afraid." Jane told him, "I've already suffered the worse pain imaginable. Nothing you can do to me will match that, you're wasting your time."

"Losing your wife and daughter, you mean?" The man asked, smiling at him. "I'm sure that hurt, Mr. Jane. Especially considering it was entirely your fault."

Jane's throat tightened, "Yes it was. And like I said, nothing you can do to me will ever hurt more than that knowledge."

"Maybe not…" he agreed with a slow nod. "But that certainly isn't going to stop me from trying. You, Mr. Jane, deserve to suffer. You deserve everything that I'm going to do to you and I want to make sure that you know that before you die."

"Believe me, I already know that."

"Nice try." The man grinned, stepping forward until he was right in front of Jane, the knife getting dangerously close to him. "But as I said, nothing you can say or do will stop this from happening."

He leaned forward and Jane sucked in a deep breath as the knife was laid flat against his throat, its sharp edge just grazing the skin. Enough for him to feel how sharp it was. His breathing shook a little as he locked eyes with the man, seeing nothing in the dark depth except cold, calculated hatred. There was no doubt in Jane's mind that this man would kill him.

"You look scared, Mr. Jane…"

Jane licked his lips, "Well, I generally don't enjoy having sharp weapons at my throat…" he said, his words quiet.

A soft smile twitched the man's lips. "Get used to it." He said sternly.

Slowly, almost gently, the knife glided down from his throat, across his chest all the way down his stomach. Never coming close enough to do any damage whatsoever. Jane was doing his best to sit as still as humanly possible, but he was scared. Whether or not he truly wanted to admit it was another story, but the fear was very real.

With another quick, almost vicious smile, the knife was suddenly thrust upward, cutting through the fabric of Jane's vest easily, buttons popping and flying away. He let the knife stop at the base of his neck caught Jane's eyes again…

"Have you ever been stabbed, Mr. Jane?"

Jane nervously met his eyes, "No, I can't say that I have…"

He grinned, "Well then…" he tilted his head as he slowly pulled the knife back down, pressing gently against the fabric of Jane's shirt but never cutting through it. The knife came to rest just above his navel. "I guess this will be a new experience for you."

Jane's breathing hitched and he sucked in a deep breath. "No, wait, please I –"

A scream suddenly tore itself from his throat as the man flashed another bright smile and plunged the knife forward, blood blossoming on Jane's shirt like some hideous, macabre flower.

**~/.\~**

"Good to see you're awake, Boss." Rigsby smiled slightly at her and Lisbon, grimacing in pain, still managed to send him a lethal glare.

"Jane's been taken by the killer –"

"We know, Boss. We're –"

"Then why are you sitting in my hospital room? You should be out there looking for him!" Lisbon demanded, frowning at her team with disapproving eyes.

"We _are_ looking for him." Van Pelt insisted. "I've been digging into Howard Stanton to find any sort of connection, so far there isn't much. But, I think I just found something."

There was a pause and Lisbon, jaw tight, frowned. "Well?"

"Um, Howard Stanton has a cousin, Richard DeVouis. According to this, almost ten years ago, Richard DeVouis was a small time celebrity. Actor in small commercials, a couple of independent films, nothing much. He was engaged to some woman named Belinda Reinhart."

"Reinhart?" Kristina looked surprised, "I know her."

"You do?" Rigsby frowned, "How?"

"She's a psychic." Van Pelt answered for her. "She had her own television show for a few years, owns her own private business offering readings, communication with passed loved ones, that sort of thing."

"And this helps up find Jane how?" Lisbon demanded. The others couldn't help but noticed how tight her voice sounded. She probably shouldn't be awake so soon, talking and trying to work, but no one was really brave enough to say anything to her about it.

Van Pelt cleared her throat, "Well, I thought it was a little strange that Stanton had a cousin who was engaged to a psychic, so I did a little more digging… Reinhart had guests on her show, other psychics, occasionally. Jane was one of them."

Lisbon frowned, "Good work. Find them both, talk to them. Figure out the story. Why'd they break up and how well did they know Jane." She fell back against the pillows, groaning.

"On it, Boss." The three agents stood to leave and Van Pelt hesitated, "Um, if you need anything, call us."

"I'm fine." Lisbon waved them out. "Hurry up, find Jane before this bastard kills him, alright? And call me as soon as you hear anything!"

Kristina stood in the door for a moment before tilting her head at Lisbon, "I'll tell your doctor you're awake before I leave." She said quietly. "But, I… I would like to say something first."

"And that would be?"

"Your team is very good. I'm sure they'll do everything in their power to find Patrick."

Lisbon frowned, "I don't doubt that." She told her.

"Maybe not… But you do believe that you have to be there for Patrick. Don't worry, he'll understand that you can't exactly go running to his rescue in your condition."

"I… I don't think that –"

"If it's alright with you, I'd like to go with them when they speak to Belinda. She knows me, she may be more forthcoming if I'm there."

Lisbon frowned, "I… uh… of course. Just make sure they don't mind you being there."

Kristina smiled, nodding and pulling the door open. "Thank you, Agent Lisbon. And if you don't mind me saying this… If you continue to hold on to your fear of intimacy and relationships, you might miss out on something very important."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

Kristina just laughed gently, "Of course you do." She told her, "Patrick."

And before Lisbon could come up with a response to that, Kristina had pulled the door open and disappeared down the hall to join Van Pelt, Rigsby and Cho.

**~/.\~**

Jane gasped, tears burning his eyes as the man twisted the knife before pulling it back out, grinning broadly now. The blade hadn't gone in very deep, no more than half an inch, but the pain was incredible, even as it began to die down and throb, it topped all other physical pain he'd ever experienced.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Jane, did that hurt?" he asked, amusement glittering in his eyes as he watched the pain play out on Jane's face.

Jane swallowed and took a deep breath. _Hold it together._ He told himself. _Just hold it together until Lisbon and the team can find you. _He almost grimaced at the thought of Lisbon. It wasn't likely she'd be coming to his rescue anytime soon, not after being shot. Still, the others would be looking for him. He still had some hope…

He didn't see the next slash coming as the man frowned and angrily brought the blade down again, this time creating a long and painful cut from his left shoulder across his chest. Blood was effectively staining his entire shirt now and his barely held back the second scream, sucking in a deep, pained breath as the man stood over him.

"I asked you a question, Mr. Jane." The man's voice was hard and angry. "Did that hurt?"

Jane's entire body seemed to be trembling as he slowly answered him. "A little, yeah." He nodded, his throat tight, voice rough from the scream.

The man grinned at him, "Only a little, Mr. Jane?" he asked tauntingly, twirling the small knife between his fingers. "I suppose that means I'll need to up my game."

"Ah, no, really, that's not necessary." Jane winced, swallowing against the waves of throbbing pain. It hurt, damn it, but he wasn't going to tell him that. He wasn't going to willingly play along with this twisted game. The longer he could hold out, the longer he was alive.

The man just grinned and walked back over toward the table, placing the small blade back in its place and studying the other knives thoughtfully before he smiled brightly and his long fingers reached out to pluck one from the middle of the row. A fairly large knife, slim blade. It looked wickedly sharp from where Jane was sitting, the dim light playing off on its reflective surface.

"Now, where were we…" the man grinned, turning back to face Jane, holding the knife in his hands easily. As if he did this sort of thing all the time. To be honest, Jane wouldn't be surprised if he did. He seemed to enjoy hacking into people if Alicia, James and himself were to be considered.

"I remember," the man continued, walking back toward the helpless consultant with an excited light in his eyes. "I was teaching you a lesson…"

"A lesson?" Jane raised a brow. "I thought you were torturing me to make me suffer for whatever it is you think I did to you."

The man scowled, shoving the knife under Jane's chin roughly, pressing it close enough that it did break the skin and a small drop of blood rolled down his throat. He grimaced and held perfectly still. "I do not appreciate your incessant mockery and arrogance, Mr. Jane." He growled through clenched teeth. "Did you ever stop to wonder if perhaps it would be in your best interest to keep your mouth shut?"

Jane remained silent, eyeing the man warily until he slowly straightened and pulled the blade away. He cleared his throat and licked his lips, "It did occur to me, yes." He answered. "But, I just find it so hard to be silent. I'm sure you've realized that."

Another flicker of anger was quickly gone as the man looked at him, an amused smile twisting his lips. "Funny." He nodded. "Yes, I have noticed that Mr. Jane, what I'm wondering is if you're too stubborn or too stupid to have realized that it was your arrogant, thoughtless speaking that got you in trouble before. Do you really want to make this worse by making me angry?"

"Well," Jane grimaced, "You're clearly already angry. There doesn't seem to be much I can do, as you said. What do you expect me to do? Just sit here quietly while you slowly torture me?"

The man's smile stretched farther and he chuckled. "You're a real piece of work, do you realize that, Mr. Jane? I think you're insane…"

"Possibly." Jane nodded thoughtfully. "But then, so are you."

He laughed again, walked around the chair Jane was in, his footsteps heavy and clicking as he did so. "I suppose that is one possibility. But do you know what the really amazing thing is, Mr. Jane?" he asked as he stopped walking, directly behind the chair now.

Jane was feeling incredibly vulnerable with the man out of his line of sight. He had no way of knowing what he was going to do or when he was going to do it. That made him very nervous. He took a somewhat shaky breath and tried to crane his neck and see the man. "What?" he asked carefully.

"It doesn't matter if I'm crazy or not. Either way, you're still going to die."

And with that, he slithered forward silently and Jane suddenly felt a strong arm reaching around his throat, holding him even more securely to the chair as another arm came around holding the knife and pressed it firmly against the first knife wound on his stomach. "And before that happens, I'm going to make you scream, Mr. Jane. You're going to scream until your throat bleeds…"

"Um, I'd really rather – ARGH!" he screamed, gasping as the knife was pressed back into the wound and the man laughed, his breath hot against his ear as he spoke again, dragging the knife along the skin, widening the cut as he went.

"And I am going to enjoy every second of it…"

_**~~/~~**_

**A/N2: Um… that's not a cliffhanger? Sure, I'll buy that… What do you want from me, I'm a cruel person ok?**

**LOL, I find writing crazy people makes me feel more sane… and then my friends point out that *I* made them up. *pouts* C'mon, can't you just give me my moment and be happy? Jeesh…**

**Anyway, hope you guys enjoyed the chapter! Sorry it's a little later than usual, college sucks…**

**Please let me know what you think! All comments, suggestions and opinions are welcome!**


	12. Chapter Eleven

**A/N: Thanks so much to KsandraMallan, Trinaluv33, scrubslova, MissDonnie, Time Lady 802379 and MentalistLover for the reviews! And thanks to Jibbsluva8294 and MeggieGirl for adding this to alerts! And thanks to AeroDeath for adding to favorites! Your support means a lot to me guys!**

**Sorry this is a little late… I was in class until almost 9:30 last night 0.o hardly had any time to write at all! I'm so sorry!**

**And… well, I guess I'm sorry about that "cliffhanger" as well… :) I simply can't resist, it's the sadist in me**

**Onto chapter 11!**

**~~/~~**

_**Chapter Eleven**_

_**~~/~~**_

It was nearing midnight when Cho, Rigsby and Van Pelt headed back to CBI headquarters. "Do we have an address on DeVouis?" Cho asked, frowning slightly.

"No, his last listed current address was in LA, but he hasn't lived there for over six months. I'm still looking though." Van Pelt answered, balancing the laptop on her knees as they drove. "Are we heading to Reinhart's now?"

Rigsby glanced at the clock on the dash… "It's almost midnight."

"And it's a three hour drive to Reinhart's; it'd be three a.m. before we got there." Van Pelt pointed out. "She probably wouldn't be happy if we just showed up there at that hour."

"But we still need to talk to her as soon as possible." Cho pointed out. "And the sooner the better."

"Well… I'll keep digging on DeVouis for now, see if anything else pops up." Van Pelt said, "And we can do more digging on Stanton too, then get some rest and leave at, say, six?"

Cho thought about that, "If we leave at six that puts us at Reinhart's by nine." He frowned. "Make it five. We can be there by eight, leave by nine and be back here by at least noon."

"It's a plan." Van Pelt smiled tiredly. She'd been staring at computers most of the day, her eyes itched and burned like crazy, but the more information they found the better. And Cho was right, they needed it as soon as possible.

As they pulled into the parking lot of CBI Van Pelt shut the laptop and stepped out of the car. "Are we going to call Kristina and let her know? She said she wanted to be with us when we talked to Reinhart."

Cho and Rigsby glanced at each other. "Sure. You and she can go up to Reinhart's. If you get an address on DeVouis, Rigsby and I will check it out."

The red haired agent nodded, "I'd better call her before she gets home then…" She said, fishing her cell phone out of her pocket. She glanced up at the dark night sky as she held the device to her ear, still walking slowly toward the doors.

Almost reluctantly she looked to the others and asked, "Do you think Jane's alright?"

"He's Jane." Rigsby said, sounding more confident than he actually felt. "He's not gonna let some crazy person get the best of him. He'll be fine; we'll find him and catch the bastard before things get too bad."

Van Pelt nodded, but didn't miss the worried look that passed between Cho and Rigsby as they passed her. She looked down and sighed heavily, explaining the plan to Kristina and trying to ignore the worry that was twisting her gut into knots.

**~/.\~**

Jane was having a difficult time keeping his breathing in check. The man stood behind him, holding him tightly to the chair, fingers still wrapped around the hilt of the blade. Blood seeped out of the wound quickly, though it was thankfully slowing down some. The man grunted and twisted the knife sharply before yanking it out.

"Argh." Jane grimaced, clenching his teeth together tightly as he saw stars. The man chuckled and slowly moved around to face him again, twirling the bloodied knife in his hands like a baton.

"Is your vision starting to blur yet, Mr. Jane?" the man asked casually, tilting his head. "You're losing a lot of blood."

Jane swallowed the waves of nauseating pain and tightened his jaw. "No." he said. Which was true enough, he could still see fine, but the tears trying to overflow from his eyes were making the world a little blurry from his point of view.

"No smartass comeback this time?" the man grinned, "Losing your focus are you?"

Jane screwed his eyes up for a moment and took a deep, shaky breath. "Well…" his voice was strained but he met the man's eyes and tried to sit up as straight as possible. "It's a little difficult to remain focused with some crazy person waving a knife around and randomly sticking it into my body…"

The man narrowed his eyes and his hand flashed out faster than Jane's pain-muddled mind could catch. He gasped and his eyes widened in shock as pain flashed across his face where the knife made another slash across his cheek.

"I am not crazy, Mr. Jane."

Jane couldn't help but smile at that comment. The wild look in the man's eyes as he said that was almost ironic.

"Really? Are you sure?" Jane asked, swallowing roughly against the pain. "Has that been confirmed by a psychiatrist?"

The man snorted, but at least he didn't stab him again. "I hate psychiatrists." He muttered.

Jane laughed, then grimaced as the action sent another wave of pain through his torn and bleeding abdomen. "Well, I suppose that's one thing we have in common. Which makes it all the more likely that you, my friend, are emotionally and mentally unstable. You really should see someone about that, I'm sure they could help you with whatever your issues are."

A slow, amused smile twitched the man's lips, "You still don't remember me? I'm surprised, Mr. Jane, I thought you had a better memory than this."

Jane frowned. He was almost certain he hadn't seen the man before, but his mind wasn't working up to speed in the given situation. Though, those empty eyes of his were something Jane figured would have been hard to forget.

"Should I jog your memory, Mr. Jane?" the man asked, raising a brow.

"Uh, well… that depends on exactly how you plan on, uh, reminding me." Jane said carefully, watching the man's face as he smiled down at him.

"Well there are plenty of ways of reminding someone of something, Mr. Jane…" the man said thoughtfully, walking back over toward the table and sitting the knife down. His fingers glided over the handles almost lovingly.

"I think reinforcing the memory with pain is often the best way." He said, leaning to snatch on of the large knives from the end. Jane swallowed hard at the sight of the thing, worried about what kind of damage it could do.

"I disagree." Jane said, his voice shaking slightly. "I'm sure there are several other methods you could use to, uh, help me remember that don't involve stabbing me."

"Perhaps," the man smiled, tapping the blade against his chin easily. "But are any of those methods as fun as this one?"

"Well, for you, maybe not. But for me, definitely." Jane nodded.

He laughed, shaking his head. "Well, I'm afraid I don't care about your feelings, Mr. –" he stopped suddenly when he was interrupted by a loud buzzing.

Jane frowned and watched curiously as he fished a cell phone out of his pocket and glanced briefly at the caller ID before paling a bit and pressing the phone to his ear nervously.

"Hello?" he asked. It was the first time his voice didn't sound angry or predatory. It was a little timid, anxious and maybe even a bit reverent as well, which only confused Jane more. Who was he talking to?

"No, no, I haven't. I wouldn't do that to you." He swallowed hard and his eyes slid to Jane, this time worried. "I…" he hung his head and sighed. "I did." He nodded. "Yes, of course he is! I know what you said."

There was a long pause and slowly, the man relaxed. "Alright. Yes, of course. Tomorrow afternoon." He nodded and walked over to the table, slipping the phone into his pocket and sitting the blade down on the table.

"What's happening tomorrow afternoon?" Jane asked, frowning at the man.

"Nothing you need to know about yet."

"Well, it just seems like it would concern me, considering how you were looking at me just then." Jane grimaced and studied the man, "Who was on the phone?"

A smile twitched the man's lips but he simply shook his head, "I need to get some rest. We've got a big day tomorrow. I'll see you in the morning."

Jane was confused as the man, who had only moments ago certainly been planning to continue his torture, walked back up the stairs and left him sitting, bleeding and in pain, alone in the darkness.

**~/.\~**

Lisbon sat awake most of the night, grateful that the painkillers only made her a little groggy. She wasn't sure that she wanted to sleep at a time like this, though her doctor had continued to insist that she get some rest. How was she supposed to rest when she was in the hospital and Jane had been kidnapped? Anything could be happening to him at that very moment… Unless the killer had already killed him.

But she refused to even consider that option. Jane was alive. She couldn't even imagine any other possibility. Jane was always getting himself into bad situations and he always got himself out. He would get out of this one too.

She conveniently ignored the fact that he'd never been in quite this much trouble. It would be fine. The team would figure out where he was and they would save him and shoot the bastard that took him.

She suddenly stopped and frowned. Shoot him? Since when had she decided that shooting suspects was the right way to do things? She winced and rubbed absently at her eyes. Too much time with Jane really was beginning to cloud her judgment. Still, it didn't change the fact that she certainly wouldn't mind if something happened and they had to shoot him. She hated to admit that it would make her feel much better knowing he was dead than in cuffs.

She pressed her lips together and her eyes fell on the clock on the far wall. It was so late… Jane had been with the man for hours now. What kind of damage could he do in a few hours?

A lot, she decided. They needed to find Jane fast.

The door was pushed open and nurse bustled in, smiling at her. "Still awake, Teresa?" she raised a brow.

"Yeah I… I can't sleep." Lisbon sighed, glancing to the machines still hooked up to her. At least the pain wasn't so bad anymore. Not with the drugs that made everything a little bit distorted.

"Well, I could ask the doctor to give you –"

"No, no." Lisbon shook her head. "I don't want to sleep, I'm fine."

"You need to rest." The nurse said emphatically as she snatched the chart from the end of the bed. "It's not doing you any good to sit up and stare at nothing for hours."

Lisbon just frowned and shook her head. The nurse sighed, "And… I know it's not my place, but it's not doing your missing friend any good either, Teresa. No matter how long you force yourself to stay awake, it doesn't bring him any closer to being back. Rest. Get some sleep, I'm sure those other agents are working very hard to find him."

Lisbon didn't have a chance to reply before the nurse was back out the door, "I'll talk to your doctor about getting something to help you sleep." She called over her shoulder as she left the room.

Lisbon sighed and laid her head back against the pillows. She decided, for the suffering she was being put through, when they found Jane she'd shoot him just for good measure.

**~/.\~**

Rigsby and Cho sat outside of a rundown looking house on the outskirts of Sacramento, frowning.

"Are you sure this is the address Van Pelt gave us?" Cho asked, glancing at him.

"Positive." Rigsby nodded. "She said DeVouis changed his name six months ago and this is the place he's been living in since then."

"Doesn't look like anyone's lived here for years." Cho muttered as they climbed out of the SUV and walked up the worn path. There was a small yard, but the grass hadn't been mowed in a while and it was a horrible, yellowish brown color. Weeds grew up from beneath the rickety porch steps and one of the windows on the second floor looked like it had been smashed in. Not the most appealing living environment.

They had to be careful walking up the steps, the wood creaked and they feared the boards could give way any time.

"This looks like one of those creepy haunted houses, y'know, in old movies." Rigsby pointed out, frowning as Cho reached out and knocked on the door.

"Great. Our killer is Frankenstein." Cho said, frowning and banging on the door again. "Mr. DeVouis! Mr. DeVouis we're with the CBI. We need to ask you a few questions!"

Nothing.

Rigsby frowned and banged on the door, "Mr. DeVouis! Open up, we're the police! We just need to talk to you!"

Silence.

The two agents met eyes and frowned. "We need to talk to him." Cho reasoned.

"Yeah, he could know something about who took Jane." Rigsby agreed, nodding.

"And after all, the door had already been kicked in." Cho said, glancing up at the taller man.

Rigsby frowned, "No it hasn't."

Cho gave him a long, hard look and Rigsby frowned.

"OH!" he nodded slowly. "Right. The door was kicked in."

"We had reason to believe he could have been hurt or worse inside, it's our duty to check it out." Cho continued.

"Of course." Rigsby nodded and took a step back, careful of the creaking boards, and shoved his shoulder into the door forcefully. The old wood splintered easily and the door swung open.

Other than the sound of the door being forced open, there was still nothing as the agents drew their guns and stepped inside carefully.

It was dark, no lights on. And when Cho tested the switch beside the door, nothing happened. They frowned and stepped further into the house. "How can anyone live in this place?"

They made their way into a living room that was entirely empty aside from a large wooden table, which seemed odd. Why have a table in the living room. Cho and Rigsby edged closer and realized that while everything else seemed old and worn out, the table was relatively new.

"What the hell?" Rigsby frowned and then they both whirled around, hearing something crash upstairs.

"What was that?" Rigsby whispered, glancing around the room.

"Dunno. It came from upstairs…" Cho quietly made his way toward the dusty staircase with Rigsby following closely behind him. As they made it to the landing, they heard another crash, coming from a door to their right.

Cho carefully threw it open, "CBI!" he called. Then frowned, there was no one there.

"What's going o- Holy crap!" Rigsby nearly jumped a foot in the air when something small and black shot by his leg from out of the room.

"It was a cat." Cho said flatly, sticking his head in the room and looking around. Nothing much. An old bed, dusty dresser and a broken mirror lying on the ground. He shut the door carefully, ignoring the shiver that went up his spine at the thought… black cats and broken mirrors. Just what they needed.

Rigsby was pulling open the door across the hall, looking around the crack carefully before opening it fully.

"Uh… Cho… I think we have a serious problem."

**~/.\~**

"How long have you known Ms. Reinhart?" Van Pelt asked as she and Kristina made their way up the walkway of a large brick house.

"A couple of years," Kristina answered thoughtfully. "We met at a conference, I believe. We were instantly connected, she has such a kind spirit. And a real talent." She smiled and Van Pelt smiled too, knocking on the door briefly.

"So you two talk often then?"

"No, not really. We occasionally speak and email, but we're both very busy, it's hard to really keep in touch."

"Oh," Van Pelt nodded as the door was opened.

Belinda Reinhart was a small woman, probably the same height as Lisbon, with thick blond curls bobbing around her chin and electrical blue eyes. She was wearing several silver bobbly bracelets that clanked and jingled as she moved. "Kristina!" She spotted the other woman and smiled warmly, "It's so good to see you."

"You too, Belinda." Kristina smiled at her, briefly hugging the woman before turning to Van Pelt, "This is Grace Van Pelt… She's an agent in the CBI."

"CBI?" Belinda's smile faded a bit. "You're working with the police, Kristina?"

"She is." Van Pelt answered. "She helping us find a missing friend... Patrick Jane. Do you remember him?"

"Patrick? Of course! He was on my show, back when I still had one." She smiled brightly. "So energetic, that man. He's missing?"

Van Pelt glanced to Kristina and pressed her lips together, "May we come in, ma'am?"

"Oh, of course, I'm so sorry!" She waved them in and led them to a large sitting room with bright, open windows letting in the mid-morning sun.

"So… what's happened?" She asked curiously, a concerned light in her eyes.

Van Pelt took a deep breath, "Jane was abducted by a man who we believe knew him at some point and blames him for something."

"Well, that's a mighty long list, Agent." Belinda smiled faintly. "Patrick had a way of getting under people's skin, you know."

She smiled, "I know." She nodded. "But… we believe that it may have something to do with you and a former fiancé of yours… Richard DeVouis."

Belinda's smile vanished and her eyes darkened. "What are you talking about?"

Kristina leaned forward and spoke, "Belinda, Patrick was taken and is being tortured." She said gently. "He needs our help. And the only connection that the agents have found so far is you and your fiancé. Please, help us."

Belinda glanced toward Van Pelt nervously and nodded. "Anything for Patrick." She said slowly. "What do you want to know?"

"Why did you and DeVouis break off the engagement?"

Belinda sighed heavily and looked down, "Richard was a good man. At first. He was kind and courteous and gallant, even. But he became… secretive, towards the end. He would be gone for hours and not tell me where he'd been. He once came home with blood on his clothes and refused to tell me what happened. I could never get a clear read on him, Richard was so… mixed up and confusing."

She frowned, "Right around the same time, I had Patrick on the show as a guest and I asked him and his family to stay here while we prepared and shot everything. The show was filmed from my home…" she added. "He met Richard, briefly… But took an instant dislike to him and later, in private of course, I asked him why and he told me that Richard was hurting people, or perhaps animals. He said he could sense the… darkness within him. That if I stayed with him, Richard would probably kill me."

Belinda looked down, "I didn't want him to be right, but I know he was. Richard was… off. I gave him more chances, but it couldn't last. I had to break it off."

Van Pelt frowned, "Did he ever hurt you?"

"No." Belinda shook her head. "But there were times when he'd get angry and I believe, if I hadn't left the room to be away from him, he would have."

She frowned, "Did he… did he know what Jane told you?"

"I never said anything to him about Patrick." Belinda said, "The only time I talked about Patrick around Richard was before they met that day when we were running through the questions. After that, whenever I mentioned him, Richard got hostile, so I just decided it was best to not bring him up."

"Why would Richard be so hostile to a man he hardly knew?"

"I'm not sure. My guess is that Patrick said something to him he probably shouldn't have said. Richard is easily offended and he holds grudges."

Van Pelt frowned, "And when, exactly, was this?"

"Oh, a few years ago. Actually, now that I think about it was only about six months before…" she trailed off and looked down.

"Six months before what?"

"Before Patrick's family was murdered." Belinda said quietly. "He did that interview, you know and…" she shook her head. "Well, I haven't seen him since then."

Van Pelt looked sad, "Well, thank you for your time, Ms. Reinhart."

"It was nothing." Belinda said, smiling faintly. "You will find him? Won't you? Patrick?"

"We're doing everything we can."

Belinda tilted her head, frowning. "You'll find him." She said confidently. "When you do, tell him I said I'm sorry."

"Sorry?" Van Pelt frowned. "For what?"

"He'll understand." Belinda smiled again and Van Pelt looked confused as she and Kristina walked back to the SUV, more questions than they had before entering.

**~/.\~**

Jane sat in the pressing silence for most of the rest of the night. Everything seemed to ache and hurt but the small cuts on his face and across his chest had stopped bleeding for the most part. It was the gash across his stomach that was the problem.

It throbbed incessantly, blood still wet and pooling in his lap, dripping down to the floor in an eerie drip-drip pattern. He tried his best to remain focused, to keep himself calm and his heart rate low. The slower his heart was beating, the less blood he would lose as a result. He'd been fighting the waves of confusion and lightheadedness for hours now, but he wasn't prepared to go to sleep for fear that he might never wake up.

He had no idea how long he sat there, in that state of semi-consciousness, but he was dizzy, sick and throbbing in pain when light spilled forth from near the narrow stairs and he heard the distinct clomp of the man's shoes as he descended into the basement and the light flickered back on, its dim glow feeling too bright after hours spent in the dark.

"Still awake, Mr. Jane?" the man asked, grinning at him. He looked rested and for the first time wasn't dressed in the customary all black. He was wearing a stark white dress shirt, black slacks and shiny looking shoes.

Jane looked up at him tiredly, feeling stiff and groggy. "You look fancy." He managed to mutter curiously, raising a brow at the getup.

Th man chuckled, "Yes I do…" he grinned. "But we've got to get started. I've got busy morning and then this afternoon… I've got a surprise for you."

"What sort of surprise? I… I'm not really a fan of surprises."

The man grinned, "Oh, trust me, Mr. Jane, you'll enjoy this surprise." He strolled casually back over to the table and selected the same large knife he had been about to use the night before.

"Let's get started, shall me?"

"Let's not." Jane said warily, eyeing the knife. "I'd really rather not."

"Too bad, Mr. Jane." The man grinned at him. He stepped closed and laid the sharp end of the blade against Jane's shoulder, gliding it down gently.

"I'll let you decide this time." He grinned, "Where do you want me to stab you?"

"Is nowhere and option?" Jane asked hopefully, meeting the man's eyes and frowning. Something was different about them now. His brows scrunched in confusion as he stared at the dark irises.

"Ah, funny. No. Would you rather I stabbed you in the shoulder or the leg?"

"Neither." Jane said, still studying his eyes. "Are you wearing contacts?"

"No."

"You're eyes are a different color…" he murmured, frowning. "Are you sure?"

"I'm positive, Mr. Jane." The man sighed, "No contacts."

"What about last night? Were you wearing them then?"

The man remained silent and glared at him. "Pick now, Mr. Jane, or I'll stab you in both."

"Oh, I wouldn't want that…" Jane frowned, eyeing the knife. If he stuck that thing in his shoulder, the chances of a full recovery looked slim. But he didn't want it in his leg either… He grimaced. "Do I have to choose?"

"Unless you want me to stab in your shoulder and your leg, yes." The man nodded impatiently. "Now pick."

Jane licked his lips nervously, "…Leg." He said reluctantly.

A grin flickered across the man's face and he nodded, "Alright, I'd brace myself if I were you. This will hurt a lot." He lifted the knife over his head, both hands gripping the handle, and brought it down on Jane's right thigh with crushing force, the blade sinking in several inches.

"AH!" Jane's body lurched forward, eliciting another pained gasp as it put painful pressure against his stomach.

The man grinned brightly, a maniacal flash in his eyes. "That was the easy part, Mr. Jane." He taunted, laughing. "The hard part is getting it back out."

Jane squeezed his eyes shut as he felt the man grip the hilt of the knife again and his entire body tensed, waiting for the inevitable pain to come. He screamed, gasping and blinking hot tears from his eyes as the blade was viciously ripped away and the blood flowed freely.

"That was an interesting warm-up, don't you think?"

"Warm-up?" Jane's voice cracked as he stared at the man.

"Oh, yes." The man grinned brightly. "I've got much more planned for you, Mr. Jane. Much, much more."

**~~/~~**

**E/N: Phew, that was a LOOOONG chapter. I hope you guys enjoyed it! Please let me know what you think guys!**

**And, uh, well, another "cliffhanger" I suppose… sorry… more soon, I promise!**

**Please let me know, comments and criticisms welcome!**


	13. Chapter Twelve

**A/N: Thanks so much to Time Lady 802379, Trinaluv33, Anna, scrubslova and KsandraMallan for the reviews! You're support means a lot to me guys!**

**Sorry AGAIN for the cliffhanger… I really can't help myself…**

**So… I'll just get on with the chapter, k? ;)**

**Please review! You're opinions mean a lot to me!**

**~~/~~**

_**Chapter Twelve**_

_**~~/~~**_

Cho turned to look at Rigsby, who was standing in the doorway of a room across the hall from him, staring inside with a wide-eyed look of horror on his face.

"What is it?" Cho moved to see what was in the room and stood in shock, eyes wide, staring in the small, cramped little space.

It was a relatively clean space, especially compared to the rest of the rotting, dusty house. The window was covered in a thick coat of grime and dust so the light filtering in wasn't nearly as bright as it could have been, but they could still see well enough.

There was a simple, dirty looking mattress on the wooden floor covered in a thread bare blanket and a stained pillow. Crumpled sheets of paper were scattered on a small desk, a pen and a typewriter sitting in the center with fresh, unmarred paper stacked neatly beside them.

It was difficult to see what color the walls were; they were covered in photographs all along the wall opposite the bed. Every single photo was a candid shot of Jane, some of them when he was with the team working cases, a few when he was entering his house, stopping for food, and even some taken from before he'd ever joined the CBI.

"This guy's been watching him for a long time…" Cho murmured, stepping into the room, ignoring the ominous way the board creaked bellow his feet as he did so.

"Definitely obsessed…" Rigsby agree, following his lead into the room. He bent beside the desk and pulled open one of the drawers. It stuck a first, but he managed to yank it free and peered inside where he found a yellow folder and pulled it out, frowning and flipping it open.

"What have you got?" Cho moved to his side, peering into the folder that contained more paper, these with instructions, it seemed like.

"'_Step One:'_" Rigsby read from the first paper. "_'Chose your target. Step Two: Study your target extensively. Know as much about them as possible. Step Three: Plan and prepare. Never become too eager, take your time and think things through. Rushing is how mistakes are made. Step Four: Execute your plan. Do NOT hesitate. Hesitation will cost you dearly. Step Five: Double check yourself. Be sure you left nothing. Destroy all evidence.'_"

Cho frowned, "It sounds like a guide to becoming a serial killer…"

"Who would write something like that and why would DeVouis have it?"

Cho shook his head, unsure, and turned to leave the room before he stopped dead in his tracks. "I think the 'who' is pretty obvious." He said stiffly, his eyes riveted to the wall beside the door. There were more pictures there, though not as many as on the other walls… But that wasn't what caught Cho's attention.

Rigsby frowned and turned to look, "Huh? …Oh crap." He paled as he stared at the wall, a sinking feeling creeping into his gut. Staring back at him was the horribly familiar Red John smiley face.

**~/.\~**

Jane swallowed as the man moved toward him again, holding the knife expertly between long fingers. He had been extremely careful, so far, not to get any blood on his clean white shirt, a miracle in Jane's opinion. There was blood in a puddle at his feet on the floor, but somehow his captor managed to elude the flying blood spatter with ease. Most likely a practiced act itself.

He wished he could make himself focus better, because after realizing that the man had been wearing contacts the previous night, he was certain that if he could just have a moment to really _think _he would remember where he'd seen him before.

Unfortunately, he wasn't exactly giving him much 'thinking' time at all and the large knife he was sticking into him served as a painful method of distraction. He wasn't even sure at this point how many times the blade had pierced his skin, all he knew was that it hurt. Thankfully, most of the cuts were superficial, nothing he would die from. At least, not very quickly. But then, that was probably the whole point.

"Giving up already, Mr. Jane?" the man asked, smiling down at him with a raised brow.

Jane looked at him and frowned, tilting his head. His head was pounding, the cuts were burning, the stab wounds were throbbing, his entire body was stiff from sitting in the damned chair all night and he was incredibly frustrated that he couldn't seem to remember the man's face.

"Giving up?" He asked, shaking his head. "No, not at all. I'm just tired. Do you think I could possibly take a nap? I didn't really sleep much last night."

The man chuckled, "It's amazing that you can still be such a jackass when you're being tortured, do you know that?"

"Oh, this is nothing." Jane shook his head, managing a small grin, though it hurt to smile. "I've been through much worse, believe me." His eyes sparkled and the man tilted his head.

"I do, Mr. Jane. But that doesn't matter because I can still hear your screams. They're beautiful…"

"Really? My screams are beautiful? That sounds a little twisted, doesn't it? I mean, to me, screams are irritating. I can't stand to listen to them."

"Yes, really, Mr. Jane. Beautiful. It's fascinating to watch your face twist in agony as the knife slices through your flesh and your blood falls faster. Seeing you visibly getting weaker with each new cut. Your screams are like music."

"Well…" Jane frowned, "If you want to continue hearing the music, would you mind giving me some water? My throat is killing me from all this 'music-making', I doubt I'll be able to keep it up much longer."

The man's smile was bordering on psychotic as he stared at his captive. "That has its upside, Mr. Jane. If you can't scream, you can't talk. And if you can't talk, I'd be much happier. You're very annoying, has anyone ever told you that?"

Jane looked thoughtful, "Everyone I've ever met." He decided finally. "I suppose it's one of my faults."

"Yes," the man nodded, "One of your many faults, Mr. Jane."

Jane didn't get a chance to respond, instead gasping as the knife was brought down on his forearm, slashing through the fabric of his shirt and piercing his skin. The man grinned and dragged the knife slowly down as far as he could, marveling at the sight of the blood blossoming out on the pale fabric as he pulled the knife away.

He took a step forward, about to make another cut, when the same buzzing from the previous night interrupted him again. Jane couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief when the man placed the bloodied knife back on the table and again fished his cell phone out of his pockets. He flipped it open, glanced briefly at the screen and a smile flickered across his face.

Jane had to admit, that smile was worrisome. "Who was that?" he asked curiously as the man approached him again, thankfully weaponless.

"No one." The man responded as he moved behind the chair. "It was an alarm."

"Oh." Jane frowned, feeling the man's fingers grasp his wrists and pull them up slightly, yanking his shoulders painfully. He grunted and grimaced, "An alarm for what?" he asked, wincing as the metal bit painfully into his skin.

"You'll find out soon enough." The man laughed gently and Jane frowned in confusion as he heard the metal of his cuffs being unsnapped and his hands fell free a moment later.

Slowly, his shoulders stiff and protesting against the movement, he brought his arms forward and massaged his aching wrists, staring down at the red and bruised flesh in fascination.

"What are you doing?" he asked curiously as the man gripped his upper arm carefully in vice-like grip.

"Stand up." He commanded.

Jane frowned, thrown completely now. "Uh… how?" he asked, motioning to his bleeding leg. "You stabbed me in the thigh, remember?"

"You can still stand, it'll just hurt."

"Well, yeah, that's my point, I don't think it's the best idea for me to be –"

"Either stand up now or I'll slit your throat. Is that clear enough for you, Mr. Jane?"

Jane licked his lips nervously and nodded, "Crystal." He whispered, looking down at his injured leg worriedly as he grunted and tried to force his stiff body out of the chair. He gasped and fell back almost immediately, pain flaring from nearly every part of his body.

"I can't…" he said uselessly, glancing up at the man.

He glared at him and tightened his hold on his arm. "Stand. Now." He snapped, yanking on his arm to get him moving again.

Reluctantly, Jane tried again, and again, pain shot through his entire body, only this time, before he could lose his balance and fall back into the chair, the man kept his grip on his arm tight and held him in place.

"Much better." He smiled and Jane grimaced, trying not to think about the pain shooting through his body. "Now move. We've only got a little bit of time."

"Before what?" Jane asked, watching the eerie anticipation in the man's face apprehensively.

"You'll find out when it's time."

**~/.\~**

Lisbon sighed, sitting halfway up on her bed, the dark circles under her eyes more pronounced than they had been the night before, despite the fact that the doctor had given her a sedative to help her sleep. She'd had a rough night and it was driving her insane to sit in the hospital bed while Jane was out there being tortured by some psycho killer.

"So, it looks like Richard DeVouis could be our man?" she asked Van Pelt, who was sitting across from her hospital bed with Kristina. The two of them had arrived only a few minutes earlier to brief her on the interview with Belinda Reinhart.

Van Pelt nodded, "Could be. He had the motive; Jane told his fiancée he was an evil man who might end up killing her one day. If he found out about that, he wouldn't have been very happy."

Lisbon looked thoughtful, "What are DeVouis' finances like?"

"There aren't any. As far as I can tell, he must pay everything in cash, he hasn't had a bank account in three years. Occasionally, he blips on the radar, showing up in motels and apartment complexes, but mostly, he's low profile. He's changed his name more than once, as far as I can tell. I was going to do some more digging once Rigsby and Cho get back from interviewing him. I was able to find an address for one of his aliases from about six months ago."

"That is if he's still there." Lisbon said.

Van Pelt sighed, "If." She agreed.

"He won't be," Kristina spoke, frowning. She hadn't been paying the conversation much attention, but she suddenly looked up and met Lisbon's eyes. "Something's about to happen. I can feel his tension… he's excited, but he's nervous."

Lisbon frowned and raised a brow, "So… what?"

"It's got something to do with whatever's controlling him." Kristina frowned.

"Do you think DeVouis is our man?" Van Pelt asked curiously, leaning forward slightly.

Kristina looked unsure, "I can't say. It's possible, but I never met the man, I can't be sure through the connection I have if it's Richard or not."

Van Pelt looked disappointed and Lisbon tired not to roll her eyes. "I want you to start digging on DeVouis now." She ordered. "The sooner we can find something useful the better. He looks good for this, and even if he's not, he might know something."

"On it boss," Van Pelt started to stand when her cell phone went off and she frowned, glancing at the caller ID and seeing that it was Rigsby. "It's Wayne –" she started to say, but Lisbon cut her off.

"Give it to me, I want to talk to him." Lisbon held her hand out and Van Pelt passed the cell phone over to her obediently.

"Rigsby? No, this is Lisbon. How did it go with DeVouis?"

She paused and then her entire body went rigid. "You're sure?" She asked, sounding worried and nervous. "… Could this be some kind of coincidence?"

Another pause and she smiled faintly, "Right, 'There are no coincidences.'" She muttered. "Fine. Get an APB out of Richard DeVouis, Van Pelt's digging into his background, she'll call you if she finds anything more. You two don't touch anything else. Call Hightower and tell her you need a warrant ASAP. We need every resource available on this one, now."

She snapped the phone shut and handed it back to her waiting subordinate.

"What did they find?" she asked curiously.

Lisbon looked worried, "Get back to the Statehouse, start looking into DeVouis' history. Track everything you can. Vehicles, apartments, classes he took. Anyone he associated with. Try to get in contact with his cousin, Stanton. Maybe he knows where he could be. I don't care what it takes, find this bastard fast."

Van Pelt nodded, eyeing Lisbon anxiously. "Boss… what's wrong?" she asked.

Lisbon's jaw tightened as she looked up at the other woman. Her voice cracked from the tension as she spoke. "It looks like DeVouis could be connected to Red John."

"What?" Van Pelt's eyes got impossibly round as she started at Lisbon, almost willing her to take those words back. "But… h-how?"

"I'm not sure yet, that's what we need to find out. Now hurry, get to work. The sooner we figure it out, the sooner we can find Jane." Van Pelt pressed her lips together and stood still, shocked, for a moment.

"Move!" Lisbon snapped impatiently, knocking the younger woman out of her thoughts.

"On it, Boss." She said quietly, grabbing her bag and leaving the room quickly, leaving Kristina, who opted to stay behind, sitting by Lisbon's bed, looking almost as worried as Lisbon did.

**~/.\~**

Jane had a considerable amount of trouble getting up the stairs. It seemed like every move he made only sent more bolts of pain through every part of his body. His stomach and leg were the worse, burning and throbbing and protesting at every turn. But eventually, they reached the top and the man pushed the door open, still keeping a firm grip on Jane's arm.

"Oh, wow, that's bright…" Jane grimaced and muttered as the light from the other side of the door hit him. He had grown accustomed to the dim lit basement; the midday sun filtering in through the windows and the fluorescent bulbs lighting the place were hard to adjust to.

"Shut up and move," the man ordered gruffly, pushing him along impatiently.

Jane stumbled in the direction he shoved him, his eyes roaming the house with interest. It seemed so normal, honestly. If he hadn't seen the basement, he might not have ever suspected that a crazy, knife wielding psycho lived here. That is, if he lived here. It could very well be someone else's home. After all, the place he'd been holding Lisbon was almost certainly someone else's house.

He noticed that there weren't any photos anywhere in the house, which struck him as odd as they made their way down a narrow hall way. His blood was getting on the floor and he supposed the man was lucky he didn't seem to have carpet anywhere, otherwise it'd take forever to get it out. And amazingly, he still hadn't gotten any blood on his shirt, though a few drops had managed to find his shiny black shoes.

"Where are we going?" Jane asked curiously as he pushed him farther down the hall.

"I said shut up."

"Ok," Jane cut his eyes at the man, raising a brow. "I was just asking a simple question…"

The man frowned and finally stopped, pushing him toward a door and reaching out to twist the knob, pulling it open and shoving him inside. Jane blinked and looked around, surprised to find himself in a small bathroom. It was neat and clean, with a porcelain pedestal stink and a small shower and tub combination on one wall, a simple blue curtain hanging open.

He let go of Jane's arm, causing him to grip the sink for balance and lean against it to take pressure off of his injured leg.

"Get undressed." He ordered.

Jane blinked, "Wh-what?"

"Get undressed, Mr. Jane. Now." His voice was tight.

"But, I, uh…" Jane spluttered. He had no idea how to respond to a command like that, but he wasn't too keen on stripping in front of this man, especially not in the condition he was in.

The man rolled his eyes. "Trust me, Mr. Jane, I have zero interest in seeing you naked, but it wouldn't be very helpful for you to bathe with your clothes on. Now take them off and kindly step into the shower."

Jane frowned, "Why?"

"Because." He ground through his teeth. "I told you to, now do it."

Jane tilted his head thoughtfully. "This wouldn't have anything to do with that surprise you mentioned, would it?" he asked.

"It has everything to do with it. Now get undressed. Trust me, you don't want me to have to take your clothes off for you."

Jane swallowed. "No, I certainly don't…" he sighed and shuffled painfully toward the toilet, sitting down and sighing heavily. He glanced up at the man and reluctantly shed his torn and bloody vest before fidgeting with his shirt.

"You're trying my patience, Mr. Jane." The man growled.

"Um… Just so we're clear, you want me to take a bath, correct?"

"Yes."

"Alright, well… um, aside from the fact that that's incredibly strange, it doesn't exactly seem like the best thing to do, I mean, bathing with open wounds and all… Not that it's entirely wrong, I just don't see how it would be very beneficial to –"

"Shut up and get undressed!" the man snapped angrily.

Jane's mouth closed and he nodded, eyeing the man worriedly as he unbuttoned his ripped shirt and slowly lay it down on the floor with his vest, leaving his torso, bleeding and aching as it was, exposed to the cold air in the room. He shivered and again hesitated.

He most definitely did not want to take his pants off, but the way the man was glaring at him told him he had no choice, so he fumbled with the button and shakily stood, gasping in pain and screwing up his eyes as he maneuvered his way out of the pants, fighting back screams the entire time. Eventually, he stood in his boxers and eyed the man nervously again, taking a deep breath.

"Do I have to –"

"Yes." The man sighed exasperatedly. "You do. Take them off and get in the tub."

Jane frowned, glancing at his already discarded, ruined clothing. "What am I supposed to wear when I'm finished?" he asked.

"I've got clothes for you, Mr. Jane, now please…"

"But my suit –"

"Mr. Jane, you're trying my patience." The man growled at him.

Jane sighed and finally took a deep breath, sliding the boxers down, grunting in pain as he did so, tears watering his eyes. He wasted no time in hobbling his way toward the tub and fighting his injured leg to get in. He didn't want to stand there and bask in feeling of being naked and completely vulnerable around his captor.

"Thank you." The man sighed, heading toward the door. "Now bathe and make it quick. I'll be right back with clothes. You've got to look presentable, after all, for your surprise."

Jane frowned and heard a lock click on the door as it shut behind the man. He stared at it for a long moment before yanking the curtain closed and settling thankfully into the tub. At least he didn't have to stand on his injured leg to clean himself, he thought wryly as he plugged the drain and turned the water on.

He glanced back at the door ever couple of seconds, confused and worried.

"What surprise?" he muttered. What did this man have planned for him?

**~~/~~**

**A/N2: *whistles innocently***

**That wasn't a cliffhanger. I swear. It wasn't.**

**Ok, maybe it was. Ah well.**

**Hope you guys enjoyed the chapter! Please let me know what you think! Opinions and comments always welcome!**


	14. Chapter Thirteen

**A/N: Thanks so much to Time Lady 802379, MissDonnie, Anna, KsandraMallan and MentalistLover for the reviews! And thanks to hufflepuff2401 for adding this to favorites! And thanks to nekrep for adding this to story alert! Your support means a lot to me guys!**

**So… um… I'll just… move on to the next chapter now… Just, um… don't be all that surprised if it ends on another cliffhanger, alright? *winces* And don't give me that look, I'm being far nicer than I have to be, ok?**

**So, onto chapter 13! Yay ;P**

**~~/~~**

_**Chapter Thirteen**_

_**~~/~~**_

"We lifted at least half a dozen different sets of prints from the house," Rigsby told Lisbon over the phone, leaning over a file on his desk. "We're processing them now, but I doubt any of them will pop. We're looking to find out if any belong to DeVouis at least."

_"Good work. Did you find anything else?"_

Rigsby pressed his lips together and glanced up at the Cho sitting across from him at his desk. "Uh… Yeah. It looks like DeVouis wasn't the only person staying in the house, a couple of the other bedrooms showed recent signs of use, but there was no way they were there more than two weeks ago. There's no food in the place and the, um, facilities aren't exactly pristine."

_"…What were they doing out there? Did you find anything more connecting the place to Red John?"_

"The living room was cleared out, a table is in there. It looks like they might have used it as some sort of meeting room… Serial Killer training group, maybe." Rigsby frowned. "There were more papers with explanations of how and where to cut someone, how much pressure to apply, what drugs to use to knock people out, what sort of bonds hold best… Creepy stuff like that. And there were hundreds of photos of Jane. In one room there were news clippings of articles on Red John, photos of victims, and a copy of a transcript of Jane's interview about Red John…"

There was a long pause and Rigsby thought Lisbon might've been disconnected, but finally she spoke again, her voice tight and agitated. _"If any of those prints come back, run them down. How's Van Pelt doing on DeVouis' background?"_

Rigsby glanced over at the red head, working diligently on the computer, her brows creased. He passed the phone over to her and she took it absently, "Van Pelt."

_"How's the background search going?" _Lisbon asked again.

"So, far there's not much. He seemed to be a pretty solitary guy. I'm tracking down his other aliases, but they're all clean. There's nothing here. I haven't been able to get in contact with Stanton yet, but I'll keep trying."

_"Good… There has to be something we can use. He made a mistake somewhere, left something we can trace him with. Find it."_

"I'm working on it, Boss." Van Pelt assured her. "Um, there is one thing… His finances are pretty much nonexistent, but I found something that blips. Under the alias Daniel Richton, he made several cash deposits to a company just outside of San Francisco. I'm tracing it now, but from what I can see, the company doesn't actually exist."

_"Keep digging. It might be nothing, but it could be something."_

"Yes, Boss." Van Pelt nodded and hung up, passing the phone back to Rigsby.

"How'd she sound?" Rigsby asked, frowning at her.

Van Pelt didn't look away from the computer, "Like she'd shoot all of us if we don't find Jane fast." She replied, her lips tight. Rigsby nodded slowly and went back to the file on his desk.

"We'd better dig deeper then," Cho murmured, his dark eyes riveted to one of the papers they'd found in what they'd dubbed the 'Serial Killer Handbook'. "She'll be out of that hospital soon enough and if we don't have Jane back, we're all dead."

**~/.\~**

Jane jumped when the bathroom door opened a few minutes later and had to take several deep breaths to bring his heart rate back down. He was incredibly thankful for the curtain blocking his view of his captor and vice versa.

"Your clothes are on the sink." The man announced. "You've got five minutes. Be dressed or I'll have to do it for you." The door closed again and the lock clicked into place.

Jane frowned and peeked around the curtain to be sure that the man was indeed gone. He forced himself up, groaning and gasping the entire time, and unplugged the stopper, watching the bloody water swirl down the drain before stepping out and biting his lips against a scream as he held the edge of the sink for balance again.

He snatched a towel with his right hand, still gripping the sink with his left, and dried off the best he could before leaning over and snatching the boxers from the pile of clothes on the sink and pulling them on.

As soon as his lower half was covered, he relaxed a little and sat down on the toilet lid, staring at the various cuts on his body. Most of them weren't bleeding anymore, but the stab wound in his leg was still slowly leaking his blood, as was the gash across his abdomen. There were several smaller cuts as well that were still bleeding, but they were no worry to Jane. They wouldn't kill him.

The door suddenly opened again without warning and he looked up, blinking, to see his captor standing there, holding a roll of bandages in his hands.

"What are those for?" Jane asked. It seemed like a silly question, but to be fair, he didn't exactly understand why the man would cut him open and then bandage him back together again so he had to ask.

"For your leg and stomach, Mr. Jane." The man answered easily, that eerie sort of smile playing on his lips as he approached him.

"I… I don't understand." Jane frowned as the man knelt beside him and began to bandage the wound on his leg.

"Of course you don't, Mr. Jane." The man smiled but didn't stop him ministrations, working almost silently.

Jane watched him, frowning. He had to admit, he felt better after the bath, cleaner at least. And not so… creaky. Everything still ached and throbbed of course, but not quite as violently as before. He studied the man's face, his blue eyes narrowed. In this lighting, with a clearer head, he was sure he'd seen him before.

The pale, empty brown eyes. The sand colored hair. The lean, tall body. His face though, there was something off about his face. He stared at him for a long moment before he asked, "Was your nose ever broken?"

The man blinked and stopped, looking up at Jane with a cat-like smile on his face. "Perhaps." He said innocently. "Perhaps not."

Jane tilted his head, "No, no it definitely was broken." He mused. "But you've had it fixed since then. It's straighter, a bit smaller…" He frowned, searching his mind for a name, the face was there now. His hair had been shorter then, his nose a bit crooked, bent toward the right from a fight he didn't talk about… And then he blinked, remembering Belinda.

"Richard DeVouis." He breathed, shock pulsing through him. He had never imagined that he'd see that man again.

Richard grinned wide, "Very good, Mr. Jane. I knew you'd remember eventually."

"But…Why?"

Richard chuckled, "Did you honestly think I wouldn't find out about what you told Belinda? About how you lied to her about me?" He yanked the bandage tight, causing Jane to grimace.

He frowned, "I was right about you." Jane said. "You are a dangerous man, Richard. Unhinged and crazy. You're a sociopath. Tell me you weren't going to kill her."

Richard met his eyes and smirked, "I was, Patrick." He said, "I was going to kill her and it was going to be beautiful. But you, you had to go and tell her I was some lunatic and she kicked me out. She changed the locks, she got a restraining order, put guards around the house."

"Smart of her." Jane mused.

Richard growled, "It's your fault. I had to wait nearly nine months, _nine months_ to find another woman as perfect as Belinda."

Jane studied his face. "Did you kill her?"

"Yes." He ground the word angrily through his teeth and Jane frowned.

"No you didn't. You got scared. You panicked, didn't you? You couldn't go through with it."

"I am not a coward." He hissed and shoved the heel of his hand against the newly bandaged leg, sending bolts of pain through Jane's body.

"If you weren't a coward, why isn't she dead? Did she catch onto you too? I've got to tell you, Richard, you weren't very subtle about it. Coming home with bloody clothes, disappearing for hours on end… If you weren't killing people, what were you doing?"

A smile stretched across his face as he finished the bandage on Jane's abdomen. "Wouldn't you like to know." He smirked. Standing, he stared down at his captive for a long time. "Finish getting dressed. We don't have a lot of time and I'm sure you won't want to miss your surprise."

**~/.\~**

Lisbon stared at the phone in her hands before closing it. The nurses and doctors had been extremely unhappy to find her using her cell phone earlier that morning, so she was using Kristina's while making sure that no hospital staff or personnel was anywhere nearby. There was no way she was staying out of the loop and hospital phones weren't much of an option for her.

She passed the phone back to Kristina and sighed. "Thanks." She offered the woman a smile, but her entire body was tense and nervous. Jane had been missing all night and half a day. How much could happen to him in that much time? And if DeVouis really was connected to Red John, who's to say he didn't just hand Jane over to him the minute he took him? What would Red John do to Jane if he had him?

She shivered at the thought. Horrible images ran through her mind of things that Red John was capable of. Terrible, inhuman things. Their best bet was that he was still with DeVouis, at least that way she felt Jane had a chance of still being alive. Not a big one, but a chance was a chance.

"Patrick is fine," Kristina told her quietly. "He's injured, but he's alive and he'll be ok. Your team is going to find him, I'm sure of it."

Lisbon eyed the woman silently, nodding without a response. She knew Rigsby, Cho and Van Pelt weren't going to quit until they found Jane, but how long was that going to take? What was DeVouis, or God forbid, Red John, going to do to him while they were looking?

Unexpectedly, Kristina reached over and gently squeezed her hand. "Agent Lisbon, I can assure you, he's still alive. And you will find him. It's only a matter of time before you do."

Lisbon stared at the hand on hers, surprised. "Thank you." She said quietly. She was surprised to admit that having Kristina around really did make her feel more confident about them finding Jane. She had a way of convincing people that everything was going to be alright. Her presence was almost soothing really… Now if they could just find Jane and have this whole mess put behind them, she'd be a whole lot happier.

**~/.\~**

Jane had to struggle to get the pants on. Jeans. He scoffed. Honestly, he hadn't worn a pair of jeans in years and this man had the gall to give him that to wear? At least he had a nearly acceptable shirt. It was a simply blue dress shirt. Nothing fancy, but definitely a step up from jeans.

He had barely finished buttoning the shirt when the door opened again and Richard stood in the doorway, smiling. "Very good." He nodded, "Now stand up.

Jane sighed and would've protested if it weren't for the shiny, gleaming blade the man held in his hands. He was getting tired of all this standing and sitting and standing again. He just wanted to sit still and let the pain go away, but Richard had other ideas so he grasped the edge of the sink and forced himself back to his feet, grimacing at the pressure it put on his aching leg.

Richard smiled and approached him, moving around in the small space until he was behind him. Jane nearly toppled over as he grasped his wrists and yanked his arms behind his back, the clicking of the cuffs sounding louder than normal to Jane's ears.

"Honestly, are the cuffs necessary?" Jane asked as Richard shoved him forward. "It's not like I'm in any condition to fight back. You've got the weapon, I'm injured and pretty much at your complete mercy."

"Exactly." Richard smiled. "And that's how I want to keep it, so yes, Patrick, the cuffs are necessary."

"What happened to 'Mr. Jane'?" Jane asked curiously. "I sort of miss him right now…"

Richard rolled his eyes, "Shut up and walk."

"Alright, fine. I'm walking. Where are we going exactly?"

"You'll see. Just keep moving."

Jane sighed and stumbled along, being guided by the man's rough hands on the cuffs. They turned down a hall, still in the upper section of the house. There weren't many doors here and the light was darker, Jane had to squint to see what was in front of him.

"Stop." Richard suddenly jerked him back, nearly making him fall to the floor. He yanked open the door beside them and pushed Jane inside.

The consultant looked around in interest. It was a large library-like room; book shelves lined the walls with thick, expensive looking volumes. A desk sat in one corner, papers strewn over its polished surface. Jane tried to get a closer look, but Richard tugged him away from the desk and toward one of three old leather chairs set up around a small table.

"Sit down."

Jane frowned at him, still confused, but took the seat and sighed in relief, glad to have the pressure taken away from his throbbing leg. "Who's the other guest?" Jane asked curiously.

"What?" Richard jerked his head toward the man, shock flickering across his face before he had a chance to hide it.

"Well, there are three chairs but only two of us. It stands to reason that someone else will be joining us. Who is that? Would it happen to be whoever you were on the phone with last night?"

"You'll find out soon, Patrick."

"Ah." Jane nodded, worry gnawing at his insides as he stared at the two chairs in front of him. "The surprise."

Richard grinned, "Yes, Patrick. Your surprise. He should be here soon."

"He?" Jane swallowed, getting a bad feeling. The look in Richard's eyes was scaring him more than he wanted to admit. "He who?"

Richard just grinned, clearly not going to answer him. Jane pressed his lips together, about to demand an answer when from somewhere downstairs a doorbell chimed. Richard's grinned grew wider.

"He's here." He announced, much to Jane's dismay. He left the room, the door shutting behind him loudly, but unable to drown out the sound of his heart pounding behind his eardrums. He had a bad feeling he didn't want to meet whoever was at the door…

**~~/~~**

**A/N2: Well… There's chapter 13… Uh… *swallows nervously***

**Ominous, huh? Things don't look so good… uh… **

**Alright, I warned you ahead of time. I can't just pass up the opportunity to leave you on a cliffhanger. I try to make up for it though… with the fast updates… doesn't that count for something?**

**Anyway… I hope you guys enjoyed it! Please let me know what you think! All comments and opinions welcome!**


	15. Chapter Fourteen

**A/N: Thanks to KsandraMallan, NCISBandGeek, bloodwrites, Time Lady 802379, MentalistLover and glouton-mana for the reviews! And thanks to Maddog1997 for adding this to alert! Your support means a lot to me! I really appreciate it!**

**So… Chapter 14… I guess I should get on with it, huh?**

**Please review! I love your feedback guys!**

_**~~/~~**_

_**Chapter Fourteen**_

_**~~/~~**_

Lisbon was fidgeting in her hospital bed. Kristina had stepped into the bathroom a few minutes ago and she was left alone to her own thoughts. And they weren't going anywhere good. Her fingers tapped restlessly against the sheets and she stared at the ceiling. Jane had been gone for far too long, she was beginning to really miss his annoyingly uncanny wit, his smartass remarks and that damn smile of his…

She sighed, reaching across to the Kristina's cell phone and dialing Van Pelt's number.

_"Hey, boss." _The younger woman answered, sounding a bit tired. _"I was just about to call you. Remember that business in San Francisco that DeVouis was paying into? Well, it doesn't exist. There are no employees to speak of, no income, not investments. It's just an empty shell. But I did manage to find an address… in a residential neighborhood. It's a house, owned by a man named Thomas Solberg. And as far as I can tell, Solberg doesn't exist either."_

Lisbon's throat tightened. Oh God… this is could be it. This could be where DeVouis was keeping Jane.

"Check it out. You, Rigsby and Cho. Get SWAT to send out an entry team. Get there as soon as possible, Jane could be there. Hurry."

_"Already on it, boss. We're about to leave now. I'll keep you posted."_

"Make sure you do. I want to know the second you find anything, Van Pelt. And I mean it. Anything. Call me."

_"Will do, boss." _Van Pelt assured her, hanging up.

Lisbon pulled the phone away from her ear and stared down at it for a long moment, lost in thought. She was a bit scared to hope, but she couldn't deny the way her heart fluttered at the thought of a real, solid lead. Something that they could follow. Something that they could check. They were close, she could almost taste it. The only question was… would Jane be alive when they got there or not?

"Sounds like they're getting somewhere." Kristina remarked quietly as she took up her seat beside the bed again.

Lisbon jerked slightly and looked up at the other woman, studying her. "Yeah. Yeah, they've got an address, they're about to check it out."

Kristina nodded thoughtfully, "I'm sure they'll find him." She told her confidently. "He'll be alright, Agent Lisbon."

Lisbon frowned, nodding absently to herself, looking back down at the phone. Suddenly, she looked up, "Kristina… do you have your car?" she asked curiously.

"Of course." Kristina frowned, confused. "But why do you-"

"No reason." Lisbon shook her head and turned the phone over in her hands a few times, thinking. Without realizing it, her fingers dialed another number and she waited impatiently for Cho to pick up.

_"Boss?"_

"Hey, uh, Cho… Listen, what was that address Van Pelt found?"

_"The bogus business in San Francisco? Why?"_

Lisbon chewed on her lower lip, "Oh, just a hunch. What is it?"

He rattled off the address, sounding a little bit confused. _"It's in a residential neighborhood,"_ he told her. _"Middle class, probably two stories with a basement. Why? What hunch did you have?"_

Lisbon didn't respond at first, using her free hand to jot the address down on the palm of her hand with a marker. "Oh, uh… never mind, it was nothing. Thanks Cho. And hurry. Tell Rigsby to drive, he's fastest, alright?"

_"Alright. We'll keep you posted." _Cho promised before hanging up. Lisbon smiled slightly to herself and looked up at Kristina.

"How fast do you think we could get to San Francisco?"

**~/.\~**

Jane tried and failed to stand up, grimacing and biting back a groan. It was difficult enough to stand with his hands cuffed behind his back, the aching stab wound in his leg made it nearly impossible without some sort of help. He cursed himself for not being better at getting out of cuffs. Not that it would've mattered if he was better, he didn't have anything to pick the lock with and he was certain Richard had the key on him somewhere.

He could hear faint voices downstairs, murmuring to each other. As far as he could tell they hadn't neared the staircase yet, which was a good thing for the moment. He tried to crane his head toward the door so that he could make out what they were saying, but they were too far away and his head was pounding. He sighed heavily, unhappy.

There had to be a way out of this. There was always a way. He looked around the room. He was facing the two chairs opposite him, the door to his back, the desk to the far right. On his left, was an old leather couch and a stool. Then the bookcases that wrapped around the room. No windows. Nothing lying out on the table… Perhaps if he could stand and wobble his way to the desk, he'd find something useful.

He pushed back against the chair and tried to force his legs to cooperate, but pain jolted through him and he gasped, falling back and seeing stars. Damn it. He shut his eyes and took a moment to catch his breath.

Alright, so walking was clearly out. Where did that leave him? He could try to hypnotize Richard, but he doubted it would work. Richard had a high threshold and would probably be more likely to punch to make him shut up than to actually listen to him. Plus, with his mystery guest arriving, things would be more complicated.

There was no way to appeal to his logic, Richard had no logic. This was all some twisted sort of revenge because he'd apparently screwed up his first murder… Jane shook his head angrily. _Think damn it. There_ _has to be something!_

He sighed and took another deep breath. His options looked bleak at the moment, but he couldn't just sit back and do nothing. Even with the team out there searching for him, he had no guarantee that they'd find him in time. He was sure that Richard planned on killing him eventually. Once he felt he'd suffered enough, however much 'enough' was to him.

Jane paused his thoughts of escape when he heard footsteps coming up the stairs, accompanied by voices. Richard's voice he picked out easily. But the other voice, he'd never heard before. It was soft, quiet. A little bit creepy, to be honest. And there was something about it that held his attention, that made him wish they were close enough for him to hear words instead of just voices.

As they go close, Jane tried to turn his head to see the door, but it was nearly impossible and all he got was an aching neck to add to the list of aching body parts.

"I assure you, he is perfectly alive." That was Richard… Jane frowned. Why would the other man care if he was alive or not? He swallowed, a sinking feeling in his gut. He had a feeling he knew, now, who the man was when he spoke. But he found himself hoping beyond anything else in the world that he was wrong. This was not how he wanted things to go…

"We'll see. You know I told you to leave him unharmed." The voice was quiet, soft. Almost nonthreatening. But there was an undercurrent of danger to it that sent a shiver down Jane's spine. He wanted to be wrong, he really wanted to be wrong.

"I-I know, but –"

"I understand." The man cut Richard off. "He is very… agitating. As long as he is still alive."

Jane swallowed. They were at the door now, pausing for Richard to unlock it. He could hear the key turning in the mechanism, the metallic 'click' sounded just a bit too ominous for his liking.

He tensed without meaning to when the door was pushed open and the men stepped inside. He couldn't see them, they were both in the doorway, to his back. But he could hear them and knowing they were there only served to make him feel more vulnerable. He hated that feeling…

"Mr. Jane," it was the other man, his soft voice a bit louder now in its proximity. "I've been so anxious to finally meet you in person…"

**~/.\~**

"Get to San Francisco?" Kristina stared at Lisbon in shock. "What are you talking about? You're in a hospital, Agent Lisbon. You were shot, you can't just leave."

"Who says?" Lisbon was already pulling tubes and wires away from her. She carefully tugged the IV for morphine out of her arm and pushed the sheets back. "Jane's in trouble, I can't just sit around. I've got to be there."

Kristina watched, wide eyed, as Lisbon tossed her legs over the side of the bed and gripped the edge with her fingers. She was pale and the room was spinning a bit, there was an annoying 'beeping' in her ears that was about to drive her insane, but she didn't care.

"Clothes." She said, forcing herself to her feet shakily. Lucky for her, the pain killers dulled most of the pain from the movement, but she was still incredibly sore having had major surgery less than twenty-four hours previously. "I need clothes. Now."

"I don't think this is a good idea, Agent Lisbon." Kristina said worriedly. "You should be resting."

"I've rested long enough, where are some extra clothes?" she fumbled her way to an overnight bag that Van Pelt had left there and unzipped it, finding her own clothes inside. She silently sent a thank you to the young agent before pulling out a pair of pants and a shirt and stumbling toward the bathroom.

"Agent Lisbon…" Kristina wasn't sure what to do. She was anxiously watching, not willing to intervene and get one or both of them hurt in the process, but this was a bad idea. A very bad idea.

Lisbon ignored her and shut the bathroom door behind her, leaning against the sink and breathing heavily. She was aching, but the pain wasn't nearly as bad as she'd expected. She carefully slipped the hospital gown off and dressed. Getting the pants on was easy enough, but the shirt took a bit of work. Lifting her arms too high pulled at the sutures on her stomach and she grimaced. There was the pain she'd expected.

It took some time, but she got the shirt over her head and sighed in relief. Dressed. Now all she had to do was get her shoes on and they could leave. As she was coming out of the bathroom the doctor ran in looking angry and confused.

"What's going on in here?" he demanded.

"I…" Kristina was for the first time at a loss for words, she looked to Lisbon accusingly and the shorter woman sighed.

"I'm leaving, doctor."

"You'll do no such thing, Miss Lisbon –"

"It's Agent Lisbon, and I will do what I want. A colleague of mine is in danger and he needs my help. I've had my surgery, the damage is repaired, the bullet is gone, I'm leaving."

"Yes, but you don't understand, Agent." The doctor sighed. "You need recovery time. You need to rest and let your body finish the healing process. Being up and moving around so much so soon could likely cause more damage. You need to get back in the bed, please –"

"Not happening." Lisbon said, her jaw set. "If it causes more problems, it causes more problems. Right now, I've got somewhere more important to be. I can focus on healing and recovery after I've got my man back, alright?"

"No. No, that is not alright. I cannot allow you to –"

"You can't allow me?" Lisbon raised a brow and glared threateningly at the man. "Let me tell you something, I don't give a damn what you think or say or do, you can't force me to stay here, doctor. I can leave of my own free will and I am going to. I will come back and I will rest and whatever you want, _after _Patrick Jane is safe. Is that clear?"

The doctor swallowed, pressing his lips together nervously. "I, um…"

"Well?" Lisbon demanded.

He stared at her silently for a long moment and sighed. "You'll have to sign the release forms to leave and I am telling you, Agent Lisbon, I do not recommend this. It's far too dangerous to your health. You could need another surgery if you –"

"It's my health." Lisbon insisted stubbornly. "I'll do with it what I want. I'm fine."

He glanced toward Kristina, as if silently begging her to talk some sense into Lisbon, but Kristina was smart enough to know that wasn't going to happen. The best she could do right then was make sure Lisbon didn't do too much damage to herself in this insane quest to be there for Jane…

"Alright, fine." The doctor sighed. "I suppose I can't really force you to stay… But I really think that –"

"Didn't we just cover this?" Lisbon snapped angrily.

The doctor shut his eyes. "I'll be right back." He muttered, looking angry and annoyed.

"How fast is your car?" Lisbon demanded, turning to Kristina. "We need to get to San Francisco in time to meet up with the team. I want to be there when they go in. It's Jane, I know it is."

Kristina frowned and then smiled slightly, "Developing your own psychic link, Teresa?" she asked quietly.

Lisbon looked surprised by that remark, blinking. "No I… I…. It has to be him. It has to be."

Kristina smiled at her, nodding her understanding. "It is." she told her. "I can feel it too."

**~/.\~**

Jane's heart was pounding in his chest. He swallowed and tried again to crane his neck, but he was still unable to see either man standing behind him. Quiet footsteps made their way to him, stopping just behind him. He was keenly aware of the man behind the chair, he could almost feel his eyes burning into the back of his skull.

He was still hoping that he was wrong about who had just walked into that door. He did his best to keep his voice steady as he spoke.

"And you are?" he asked, trying to look up and see the man fruitlessly.

The man chuckled lightly over his head, sending a shiver down his spine. "I'm an old friend," He said, hands resting on top of the chair, squeezing the leather between gloved fingers. "Mr. Jane."

Jane's fists clenched in the cuffs and he took a breath. "An old friend who hasn't met me before…." He said quietly. "I can only think of one person who'd say that."

He could almost hear the smile in the man's voice. "Really? And just who would that one person be, Mr. Jane?"

Jane shut his eyes. He was quiet for what felt like forever, but he finally spoke. "Red John."

Another pause, another laugh and Jane could hear the smile. "Very good, Mr. Jane. I'm impressed."

Jane's heart was stuck in his throat. Damn it. This was not how this was supposed to be. He was supposed to be relatively uninjured and able to actually s_ee _the bastard. How was he supposed to kill him when he was at his complete mercy?

He heard the floor creak slightly as Red John shifted his weight, leaning down. He could feel his breath against his ear and shivered. "How badly are you hurt, Mr. Jane?"

Jane frowned, not entirely sure what to say. He looked up, surprised, when Richard walked around to the chair in front of him, taking one of the seats. He stared at Jane with an intensity that was almost frightening.

"Well, Mr. Jane?"

Jane swallowed, "I'm not… really sure how to answer." He said quietly, trying to get his voice under control.

"It doesn't seem like a difficult question."

"I've been better." Jane answered, frowning. His voice was still a bit unsteady. His heart was still pounding too fast. His throat felt too tight. He really wanted this to all be a nightmare or something similar.

"But, I'm alive."

"I can see that." Red John's voice was still soft and even, controlled. Jane hated him all the more for that. There was a pause and Red John smiled, glancing up toward Richard. "Which is lucky for your friend, Mr. DeVouis here. Otherwise he'd be in trouble…"

Jane took a deep breath, "Why would you care if he killed me?"

"That would ruin my fun, wouldn't it? What's the point in killing you when you're so… entertaining."

"Entertaining?"

"Very." Red John nodded, still remaining behind the chair, much to Jane's annoyance. "I've got far more important plans for you than death, Mr. Jane. Far more important."

**~~/~~**

**A/N2: *Frustration***

**I'm not sure how good this chapter was, I'm iffy about it… I'm not sure how well I did writing Red John. Keep in mind that this takes place BEFORE Jane meets Red John in the season 2 finale so… it might end up a little AU-ish…**

**Please let me know what you think! Your opinions mean a lot to me!**


	16. Chapter Fifteen

**A/N: Thanks to glouton-mana, KsandraMallan, MissDonnie, Time Lady 802379 and MentalistLover for the reviews! Thanks to MissDonnie and xblizzardsmarkx for adding this to story alert as well and thanks to UEAcon and crexy for adding this to favorites! Your support means a lot to me guys, seriously!**

**So… back to the story I guess…**

**Please let me know what you think! Reviews are always welcome!**

_**~~/~~**_

_**Chapter Fifteen**_

_**~~/~~**_

"Plans?" Jane's voice was still uneven, though he was doing everything he could to steady it. The last thing he wanted was to show Red John that he was scared. Which he was, though he would never admit to it. He was also angry, and anger and fear do not make good companions. "What sort of plans?"

Red John grinned, his eyes twinkling and he remained stationed behind Jane's chair, causing the consultant's neck to tingle nervously. "Well that would ruin the surprise, wouldn't it, Mr. Jane?"

Jane frowned, his eyes flickering to Richard. What he saw there confused and worried him. The man was staring up at Red John with reverence in his eyes, like he worshipped the man. What sort of sick mind would find anything about Red John worthy of that much adulation? It was creepy and just… wrong. He'd seen the same eerie admiration and loyalty in Rebecca's eyes. At the time, he'd assumed it was just her, but Richard was staring at him the same way. How many more people out there thought this psycho was a god?

His eyes never wavered from Richard's as he spoke. "You know, I'm really… not a fan of surprises."

There. He'd managed to make his voice steady enough for his own liking. It wasn't easy though. The man who had murdered his wife and daughter was standing right behind him and he couldn't do anything at all, not even look him in the eye. It was beyond frustrating.

Red John sighed, "I'm sorry to hear that. But it doesn't matter. You'll have to get used to surprises, Mr. Jane, if you're going to insist on continuing this game of ours. And I know you are. You can't end it, not until one of us has won."

Jane licked his lips, still staring intently at Richard as he spoke. The man hadn't taken his eyes off of Red John for a moment. "Game?" he asked, having to work again to keep the tremor from his voice.

"What game?"

"Oh, don't play stupid, Mr. Jane. You know exactly what I'm talking about. You initiated the game to begin with, when you went on television and slandered my name in front of millions. I simply reciprocated that act by taking what mattered most to you, by showing you what happens when you insist on lying about people and building your life on a sham. It's your move now, correct? Can you honestly tell me you haven't spent the last seven years hunting me down. Trying to find me to exact your petty vengeance?"

"Petty?" Jane's voice was tight, anger boiling inside of him as he listened to the man speak. He wanted so badly to be free of the cuffs on his wrists. He didn't care what the odds were, he would take the chance if he could even just try to make Red John suffer for what he'd done.

"You murdered my wife and child." His voice cracked, he felt angry, bitter tears burning his eyes but he refused to let them fall.

Red John didn't seem to be all that affected by the hate and fury in Jane's voice. He smiled lightly, "Yes, I did." He said, "But it was your fault, Mr. Jane. I never would have touched either of them if you hadn't lied. If you hadn't gone on TV and spread those silly half-truths of yours, I never would have had to set you right."

Jane's throat was tight, he could hardly breathe normally. Those words were worse than any knife could ever be. He knew it was his fault, he knew that if he had listened to his wife and gotten out of the Psychic world when she begged him to, none of this would have happened. He knew that if he had been a better man, a better husband, a better father, Angela and Charlotte would still be alive. He knew that he was the one to blame for everything that had happened that night. And he didn't want to be reminded of that.

"Set me right?" he asked, his voice shaking obviously now. "What do you mean?"

"Before I killed your wife and child, your entire life was based on a lie, Mr. Jane. You and I both know that. And you are far too intelligent and skilled to waste your life in such a frivolous, silly profession. If that could even be deemed a profession. Because I took from you everything that mattered, you realized that. You understood how worthless the life you were leading was. You knew that you were living in a lie and you had to change. And you did."

He paused, tilting his head thoughtfully, one of his hands drifting down the chair to rest on Jane's shoulder. Jane flinched and tried to shake the hand away but Red John drug his fingers in and smirked to himself.

"And look at you now." He mused. "You're making a real difference, Mr. Jane. Bringing criminals to justice, saving lives even. Doing something truly worthwhile with your gifts. And you wouldn't have ever done so if it weren't for me."

Jane's jaw was so tight he feared it might shatter. He took his eyes off of Richard, straining to see the gloved fingers that were wrapped tightly around his shoulder. "Putting away criminals like you?" he asked, the bitter edge to his voice coming out through clenched teeth. He was doing everything he could to contain the roiling emotions that were tangling up inside of him – had been tangling up inside of him, in fact, since the night he found his wife and daughter dead.

Red John chuckled, a low, even sound. Contemptuous and patronizing. It set Jane's nervous on edge.

"I'm hardly a criminal, Mr. Jane. Yes, society views my work as acts of criminality and even evil, as you yourself put it. But I am not an evil man. You can ask Richard, I'm a very good man. I am an artist, Mr. Jane."

"An artist who enjoys killing people and inciting fear." Jane said, pressing his lips together.

The fingers dug deeper into Jane's shoulder and he bit back a wince.

"Careful, Mr. Jane." Red John warned. "That quick tongue of yours has already gotten you into enough trouble, wouldn't you agree?"

"What else could you take from me?" Jane's voice whipped out angrily. He hadn't meant for the words to escape his lips, but once they had he couldn't stop them. "You've already taken everything that means anything to me at all. Killing me wouldn't gain you anything."

Red John flashed a devious grin. "But you're wrong, Mr. Jane. I haven't taken everything. As I said, this game we are engaged in isn't over yet. You believe that you will stand as the victor once I am dead. I disagree, but you are blinded by your own pain and self-loathing… But for me to win this game, all I have to do is simple. Destroy you. Make you a shell of the man you once were. I've already gotten very close, wouldn't you agree?" he asked lightly, a smile in his voice as he studied Jane's messy curls.

Jane growled low in his throat, his entire body tense, fists clenched tight. He wanted something he could use. Something that would damage the man as much as possible. He wanted to feel his blood run through his fingers no matter how wrong that sounded, he wanted to watch him suffer and see him scream and stare on as the life slowly faded from his eyes. The more painful his demise, the better.

"But you're very resilient, Mr. Jane, I'll give you that. You'll never back down from this game and so neither can I. It's a shame, really. Though I do enjoy watching your dogged pursuit of me, I must say. It's entertaining in a world that is quickly losing my interest. You've recovered remarkably well from my earlier blow… Well enough, I'd say, to forge yourself a new family. One that is far more important to you than you're likely to admit."

Jane stopped breathing for a long moment as those words sunk in and he realized what they could mean. No. No, he could never let that happen. Not even if he had to die himself, he would never let Red John hurt Lisbon or the rest of the team. That was not going to happen.

"I'd imagine that a fair and proper punishment now would be easy to decide… Agent Lisbon, that is her name, isn't it?"

"Stay away from her." Jane's words were ground out through a tight jaw as he fought to rein in his twisting emotions.

"Trust me, Mr. Jane, I have no intentions of harming her. But should you make another grievous error, she would certainly be the first person I'd look to. If I were you, I'd do the smart thing and end this game. Stop this foolishness now. But we both know that you aren't going to let this go. And so the only real advice I can give you… is to be careful."

Jane swallowed hard, not sure how to respond. Not truly able to force words past the angry, bitter lump in his throat. His eyes stung from unshed tears, his jaw ached from being clenched in the same position for so long and he was certain that the throbbing in his head had something to do with the emotions that no longer made any sense to him at all.

"Richard," Red John suddenly spoke again, his tight grip on Jane's shoulder loosening as he looked toward the other man sitting across from him. "I suggest that you release Mr. Jane soon. Very soon. I'm sure his friends at the CBI are searching tirelessly for him as we speak."

Richard's face fell and he glared toward Jane angrily, "But he –"

"I know. But in your case, Richard, he spoke nothing but the truth and you know where I stand on this matter."

Jane was listening in near fascination. Richard was a completely different person when talking to Red John. Like a petulant, admiring child who wanted desperately to get his way. He nodded sullenly though and Jane was surprised. He would give up his revenge because Red John said to? If he hadn't been sitting in the room, he'd say it was because he was scared of Red John, but there was no fear to speak of in his eyes. Only pure admiration and, dare he think it, affection.

What the hell was wrong with this picture?

"I understand." He said quietly, nodding. "But he knows who I am. He –"

Red John cut him off, his grip on Jane's shoulder suddenly tightening again, "The CBI agents will figure out who you are without his help, Richard. I can help you hide, but only if you allow Mr. Jane to go."

He sounded like a parent telling a child they could have dessert only after they'd eaten their broccoli. It was creepy.

As Red John dug his fingers into his shoulder again, Jane shifted, trying as hard as he could to get the hand away from him. He didn't want the bastard touching him. He tried to slide further down in the chair and his eyes nearly popped open as his finger slid across something thin and metallic. Perhaps a pin or a small needle, he wasn't sure and at the moment, he didn't care. He grasped it between his fingers, hope fluttering in his chest for the first time.

Maybe, just maybe, there _was _a way out of this that perhaps even led to his revenge… He twisted slightly, his fingers using the thin pin to unlock the cuffs. It wasn't easy, and he'd never been good at opening cuffs, especially behind his back, but he had to try. He had to.

Richard nodded, "I will." He assured Red John, his eyes flickering to Jane again, disappointed. Apparently, he'd hoped to be able to kill Jane with Red John's blessing, but considering that wasn't going to happen any time soon…

Red John smiled, flexing his fingers and lightening his hold once again. "Good." He nodded. "I –" he stopped, frowning suddenly and turning toward the door. "What was that?"

Jane looked up, surprised, straining his ears as well as Richard and Red John both fell silent. Faintly, they could hear the sound of several cars pulling into the drive, doors slamming and voices. The team had made it.

"Damn it." Richard swore under his breath angrily.

"Do not panic, Richard." Red John cautioned him, taking a step back, turning to face the door. "There's another exit in the basement, remember? Leave Mr. Jane here and we can escape."

Richard hesitated, "But I –"

Red John sounded impatient when he spoke again, clearly not willing to let himself be caught because of Richard's own need for vengeance. "Unless you want to be caught, Richard, I suggest following me."

Jane fingers worked double time, trying to unlock the cuffs. He couldn't allow Red John to escape. Not now. Not when he was so close. He felt the pin slide into the locking mechanism and couldn't stop a smile stretching across his face. He was grateful that Red John couldn't see. He twisted and jabbed the pin inside eagerly, hearing the agents outside moving around. They were waiting for the entry team to get together no doubt. Soon they'd be knocking on the door. Then breaking it down. He had to be free before they did that. He had to.

**~/.\~**

Van Pelt looked up at the house as they pulled into the driveway, frowning. It was a large place, neat looking but sort of sad, really. It didn't seem to be inhabited.

"Nice place." Cho remarked dryly as the approached the front door, SWAT agents gearing up and getting ready to enter. Rigsby nodded, putting on his own flak jacket.

"Looks a little like the place in Sacramento." He said, eyeing the house up and down.

"Yeah, except this one isn't haunted by cats." Cho told him. "…I hope."

Van Pelt glanced toward them, shaking her head. "How much longer?"

"A few more minutes. SWAT's getting ready. We'll go in, take the place. Look for any sign of Jane. Hopefully, he's in there."

"With a psycho killer who wants him dead." Rigsby added bleakly. Van Pelt shot him a disapproving look and then frowned.

"Wait… do you hear that?" she turned around and shock passed over her face when she spotted Kristina Frye pulling into the driveway behind their SUV.

"Kristina?" She frowned as the woman stepped out of the car looking stressed and on edge. "What are you doing here?"

Kristina gave her a weary look before heading around the opposite side of the car and pulling the door open, leaning down to help none other than Lisbon out of the car.

"Boss?" Rigsby frowned. "You're supposed to be in the hospital."

"Nah." Lisbon tried to force a smile. "I don't need a hospital, guys. I had to be here. Jane could be inside and I'm not sitting in a hospital waiting for a phone call to find out what happened, alright?"

"Uh… sure, boss." Van Pelt looked worriedly to the other agents. "But you can't really go in, can you?"

"No, she can't." Cho shook his head.

Lisbon's smile faded, "No." she agreed. "That would be really pushing it. But I can stand out here with Kristina and wait." A faint smile traced her face again. "Maybe it'll help me get into Jane's shoes."

The three agents laughed, "Just don't do something stupid like Jane did last time." Cho told her.

"Scouts honor." She smiled at the man, surprisingly pleased with the way he'd taken over the team while she was incapacitated. She leaned against Kristina's car for support and glanced up at the house. "I'll wait right here while you find Jane and the bastard who did this, alright?"

Kristina stood next to her, watching her worriedly. She hoped Lisbon kept her word because there was no way she was going in chasing after her if she tried to do something stupid. And right now, the woman was difficult to read, the desperation, the pain and the anger in her eyes clouded out every normal thinking process.

"Alright." Cho nodded turned back to the house as a SWAT agent came up to them and told him they were ready.

"Let's go." The agents headed toward the door, up the narrow front steps and drew the weapons, eyes shifting anxiously, nerves on edge, hearts pounding just a bit too fast. Cho swallowed past an unwanted bubble of fear and kept his face as unemotionally stone-like as possible, reaching forward and putting his hand on the knob, unsurprised to find it locked.

The windows beside the door had their curtains drawn so there was no way of telling if DeVouis or whoever was inside was nearby or not. He nodded to the SWAT agents and they got into position, watching him for the go-ahead.

He held up three fingers, his eyes dancing from Van Pelt to Rigsby, both equally as anxious as he was.

One fingers lowered and they tensed, fingers resting a bit tightly over triggers. The second finger lowered and SWAT shifted in their place. Finally, after an eternity of seconds, Cho lowered the third and last finger and the still air outside the house was shattered by the sound of splintering wood.

**~~/~~**

**A/N2: *Gasp* But they're so close! How could I just leave it there?**

**Simple. I'm evil. ^_^**

**Anyway, I hope you guys enjoyed the chapter! More to come soon, I promise! Please let me know what you think!**


	17. Chapter Sixteen

**A/N: Thanks to Maddog97, scrubslova, KsandraMallan, Time Lady 802379 and Anna for the reviews! Your support means a lot to me guys! I'm glad you're enjoying this story!**

**And now, without further ado, Chapter 16! Da dada da dadada! Lol…**

**Please review! Any comments, criticisms and opinions you have are welcome!**

**~~/~~**

_**Chapter Sixteen**_

_**~~/~~**_

The tension in Jane's body intensified as he felt the lock give way. Red John was standing behind him, close to the door, impatiently watching Richard, who looked reluctant to leave. He clearly wanted more time with Jane before having to give him up. For once, Jane was thankful for the man's thirst for revenge. It gave him more time as his fingers numbly worked the cuffs off his hands and he took a deep breath.

This was going to hurt, he knew. But there was no way that he could let Red John get away. He was so close, he could almost taste his revenge and he wasn't about to let it slip by without at least trying.

"They'll be entering any moment now, Richard. You don't have time to dawdle with Mr. Jane. If you don't want to be arrested, now is the time to leave."

Jane could see the reluctance flickering in Richard's eyes and he braced himself, pushing against the seat with his hands as he heard the lock to the door being undone. Pain flashed through his entire body and he lurched unsteadily to his feet, much to Richard and Red John's surprise. He turned, one hand holding fast to the chair and practically threw himself at the man standing by the still closed door.

"NO!"

He screamed as the two of them collided together, topping to the floor. His shirt and pants were starting to feel wet with blood as the bandages came loose and the partially healed cuts reopened. Jane didn't care. He wasn't paying attention to the pain that made everything dark, to the blood stain blooming out on the white shirt. He was only paying attention to the man currently lying underneath him, surprise on his face as he struggled to regain his breath.

Jane didn't have a weapon and he was precariously balancing himself on top of Red John, knowing soon he'd have the upper hand again. So he did the only thing he could do. His hands wrapped themselves around the man's throat in a surprisingly strong gasp, he couldn't see anything other than the man's dark eyes as they bulged in his skull and his hands clawed at Jane's, gloved fingers grasping at the tight grip desperately.

Richard moved to pull Jane off, but Red John shook his head, choking and spluttering. "No…" he gasped, grimacing as Jane's nails drug into the skin at his neck and blood trickled from the shallow wounds. "Leave… him…" his eyes went to Jane and a faint, confusing smile traced his lips as he star into angry, tear-filled blue eyes.

"You're making a mistake… Mr. Jane." His voice was rough as Jane squeezed tighter, trying with everything in him to shut the man up. To make the life leave those eyes forever.

"I don't think so." Jane disagreed, his voice shaking from emotions he wasn't quite ready to identify yet.

Red John smiled still, a patronizing smile that infuriated Jane as he clenched his hands with everything in him. He didn't noticed when one gloved hand slip from his own and reached for a coat pocket. He never saw the glint of a silver blade as Red John drew it forth from the confines of the dark coat. But in a matter of seconds, he felt the piercing pain of it as it was shoved into his side all the way to the hilt.

His grip slipped as he fell back, blood running from the wound, the knife still sticking out of his side. His eyes went from Red John to the knife, gasping as the world began to spin a bit. He'd already lost a lot of blood… And he couldn't tell how bad this new wound was. His hand went to the handle of the knife, his fingers growing wet with his own blood as Red John laughed above him, struggling back to his feet, dark eyes focused intently on Jane as the world around him dimmed.

"I'll be seeing you, Mr. Jane." He taunted, turning and pulling the door open.

A surge of anger, of desperation, fueled Jane into movement again. He could hardly see, he could hardly breath and he certainly couldn't stand very long but none of that stopped him from yanking the knife out of his side with a pained scream and Red John turned back, surprise flickering on his face, in time to see his own knife burry itself into his chest.

Jane was breathing heavily, everything spinning as he stood unsteadily on shaking legs. But he watched in fascination as Red John stared down at the hilt of his own knife sticking out his chest, his own blood blossoming out and soaking his shirt. He swayed a bit on his feet, his eyes going back to Jane's face and Jane stared right back, watching as everything emptied out of them and Red John crumpled to the floor like a ragdoll. Dead.

Despite the pain, despite everything, Jane felt a real smile stretch across his face. He had done it. He had finally done it. He felt at peace for all of a second before pain intensified. Richard, standing behind them, moved with a growl slamming a fist into Jane's face, knocking him to the floor next to the prone body of his adversary.

"You bastard!" Richard was screaming, "You son of a bitch!" He threw another fist into Jane's face, fire burning in his eyes as he sat on top of the man. A slew of swears and angry insults poured from his lips as he assaulted the already battered consultant.

Jane hardly reacted at all, his head was spinning, the entire room was spinning. He felt tired and weak and his body was heavy. He didn't know what was happening, but he thought there was a good chance he was dying. He didn't want to die, but if he did at least he'd killed Red John before it happened. At least he'd accomplished that much.

Blood flew from his mouth as Richard punched him again, that hate in his eyes so fierce it was almost impossible to comprehend. He paused for a long moment and Jane's pain-muddled, blood-deprived mind thought that maybe now it was over. Maybe he was finished. The weight above him disappeared as Richard got back to his feet and fumbled in his pockets for a moment before producing the sleek black gun he'd held earlier.

He stared down at Jane, not even caring that there were footsteps pounding up the stair case. His eyes never waved from Jane's broken, bleeding and surely already dying body. "You're a dead man, Patrick. Dead." He hissed, his finger tight of the trigger as the sound of running feet pounded in his ears.

**~/.\~**

The door flew open, splintering against the force as SWAT rushed in, followed closely by Van Pelt, Rigsby and Cho guns ready, eyes keenly taking in the entry before moving past the entry. There was a staircase leading down to a basement, the door standing open, blood on the floor. Not much, but enough to worry them

"Check downstairs." Cho said in a hushed voice to the SWAT agents. "Rigsby, you and Van Pelt come with me. We'll check the main house."

As the agents moved to the stairs, a scream broke the still silence from somewhere in the upper section of the house. Their eyes met for a split second before the raced toward the stairway leading upstairs as a loud crash and another scream pierced the air.

"This way!" Cho motioned anxiously down a hall, leading the way as they heard another low scream and a hard to understand voice spitting out insults. At the end of the hall, one door stood open, a gloved hand lying prone just outside the threshold.

The rushed around the corner just in time to see two bodies, blood pooling on the ground around them. One man standing over them, a gun clenched between tight fingers.

"Drop the weapon!" Cho ordered, trying not to look down at the floor. Jane lay there, eyes closed, a pool of blood growing underneath him. He couldn't tell if he was breathing or not, but he wasn't about the let this man shoot him either way.

The three agents had their guns trained right on DeVouis; DeVouis never moved his gun from where it was aimed at Jane on the ground. "You can't be here." DeVouis' voice shook as he stared at them, his finger still resting on the trigger.

"Put the gun down." Cho's grip on gun tightened. "Now."

DeVouis' pulse was jumping obviously in his throat. Sweat was beading on his forehead. "I can't." He insisted, his eyes shifting back to Jane, hate flaring in their dark depth. "I can't."

His finger twitched on the trigger and the house was suddenly shattered by the sound of guns being fired.

**~/.\~**

Lisbon was fidgeting outside by the car. She could hear the sounds coming from inside as the agents went in. She heard what she thought could've been a scream and she straightened up, her eyes wide. She took an unconscious step toward the house but a gentle hand on her elbow kept her back.

"It's going to be alright, Agent." Kristina said, her voice was quiet. Her eyes were focused intently on the house as she spoke.

"You don't know that." Lisbon's voice was bitter, but she swallowed and didn't move from where she was standing. She had to give them a chance to find Jane. Safe and alive. He had to be alive. She really didn't want to consider any other alternative.

Kristina looked at her, her eyes soft and comforting. "I do know that. He's going to be alright, Teresa. He's fine."

Lisbon took a deep breath, nodding. Her eyes stayed fixed on the house. The door still stood open from where the agents had forced their way in. So far, no one had come out and she was starting to feel impatient. Her gut was starting to hurt from standing for so long but she couldn't look away, not now. Now when so much was hanging in the balance.

Suddenly, a gun fired from somewhere in the house and her heart nearly stopped.

"Jane!" she didn't think, she reacted, her feet unsteadily pushing her forward as she made her way as fast as she could to the house.

"Agent Lisbon!" Kristina started to chase after her, worried and concern flickering across her face as she tried to stop her.

"No…" Lisbon shook her head, shaking off the light grip and thudding up the stairs as fast as possible. She wasn't sure what she was doing, where she was going or what she was going to do, but she knew that Jane had to be somewhere in that house. She just knew it. And something had happened, she couldn't take standing around waiting anymore she had to be in that house.

She stumbled, clutching her stomach and gritting her teeth against the pain, into the house and toward the stairway where she spotted several SWAT agents. She could hear voices upstairs, it sounded like Cho or maybe Rigsby calling an ambulance. That was good, right? An ambulance meant someone was still alive. Unless that someone was DeVouis…

"Uh, ma'am, wait!" one of the agents tried to stop her as she reached the landing and looked around wildly before spotting an open door and Van Pelt standing outside, a horrified, stricken look on her face.

"You can't be up here!"

"Like hell I can't." she snapped, pushing her way past him and staring forward with wide desperate eyes as she made her way to the end of the hall.

"Lisbon!" Van Pelt turned as she saw her boss heading her way, there were faint tears in the young woman's eyes. "You're supposed to be outside." Her voice broke as she talked and Lisbon didn't like what that could mean.

"I couldn't wait…" she said, moving around as Van Pelt tried and failed to block her from seeing the room.

Her green eyes took in a scene of horror and chaos.

Two men lay dead, eyes empty and staring up at the ceiling, pools of blood seeping into the ground beneath them. Rigsby and Cho were on their knees, hands drenched in blood, at Jane's side… God he looked like hell.

He was pale, bruises covered his face, his blood was everywhere. His eyes were closed and he still looked world weary and beaten. She'd thought he'd looked bad before but this… this was a thousand times worse. He looked like death.

"Oh my God…" her voice cracked and she suddenly felt her legs give way underneath her, falling to her knees at the man's side. Rigsby and Cho, putting pressure to the worst of Jane's wounds, looked up surprised.

"Boss, you were supposed to –"

"I couldn't." She hated herself for the tears that leaked out of her eyes, sliding down her face as she stared at the consultant. She'd never seen him so weak, so vulnerable before. Not in all the years that she'd known him. Not once.

"I-Is he…"

"He's still alive." Cho answered, his normally level voice cracking just slightly as he saw Lisbon's tears. This was something not even his worst nightmares could have conjured. "Paramedics are on their way, but he's lost a lot of blood."

"Don't say that." Lisbon shook her head, reaching out blindly and taking Jane's limp hand. It was still warm, at least, and covered in blood. She didn't even know if it was his blood or not and she didn't care as she gripped the hand like her very life depended on it. "He's going to be fine. He has to."

She choked back a sob and brushed a stray curl of his messy hair away fro his forehead. "Do you hear me, Jane? You have to live. That's an order. I've put up with your crap for all these years and I'm sure as hell not gonna let you die on me, damn it. You have to make it."

Her tears fell faster and Rigsby and Cho glanced at each other, Van Pelt watching on silently, her own tears escaping down her face and dripping to the floor.

"You have to."

**~~/~~**

**A/N2: So… As I said, sort of AU considering that isn't how Red John actually died. I always sort of hoped that Jane would stab him, the gun was a bit disappointing, honestly… well, at least, if that really was Red John and I hope it wasn't… but back to the story…**

**I hope that was alright, I'm nervous about how that ending turned out. I'm not sure if I got the emotional stuff right … *chews lip nervously***

**Please let me know!**

**Also… If anyone is interested, I just posted a Criminal Minds/Mentalist Crossover called "Scarlet Ribbons" Check it out if you want…**

**And… I was considering making THIS story Jisbon… But I'm not sure and I don't want to do it if you guys don't want any pairings. So, let me know…**

**Please review! Your comments, critiques and opinions mean the world to me guys!**


	18. Chapter Seventeen

**A/N: Thanks to KsandraMallan, MissDonnie, glouton-mana, Anna, scrubslova and TotalGleek1004 for the reviews! And thanks to susanwilson for adding this to story alert! Your support means the world to me guys, seriously, I love y'all ;)**

**So… after careful consideration, and thankfully receiving no reviews against the idea and a few supporting it, I have decided that YES this will become Jisbon. I'm crossing my fingers and hoping it turns out right… And apologizing, even though you guys seem happy about the decision, for not letting you know before you read the story that there was going to be a pairing. I usually know, but I didn't plan for this to change and it did…**

**Now, after boring you all with that annoyingly long Author's Note… let's get back to the story, shall we?**

**~~/~~**

_**Chapter Seventeen**_

_**~~/~~**_

He felt almost as if he were floating. Light and airy… He didn't know where he was or how he had gotten there, but he had the strangest feeling that he should be in pain, yet there was none. Jane cracked his eyes open slowly, almost reluctantly, and found himself in a brightly lit space. Not a room or a house… there were no windows, no doors, no walls… It was just… a place. He frowned, confused. Where the heck was he?

A strange thought flittered across his mind: _Am I dead? Is this Heaven? _

But that was nonsense. Heaven didn't exist, and even if it did, there was no way he was getting in. Not after all the bad things he'd done in his life. Still, this place wasn't normal, he knew that much. He couldn't look directly at the light, it was so bright… too bright. But it didn't make his head hurt like bright lights normally did. For some reason, he didn't even think to wonder why that was.

He was alone in the space and there was no sound. No sense of being, no way to tell how fast time was passing. Nothing except an empty expanse of bright, whiteness.

And that's when he heard it… it was faint at first, but grew louder. His heart came to a thudding stop in his chest and he whirled around, searching the endless space for the source of the voice.

_"You can't quit now, Patty."_

It was a female voice. One he recognized instantly. One he hadn't heard in over seven years. Angela's voice…

"Angie…" the sound of his own voice startled him. It was louder, piercing, the sound vibrating in the air and seeming to linger there for a moment or two before dissipating. His throat felt tight as he spun around, trying to see where she was. He was sure that he'd heard her…

_"Patrick, you have to keep fighting. You can't just give in like this. Not now."_

"Angela?" Jane's voice was tentative now, confused. Was he going mad? Was he crazy? Or was he dead? He swallowed, still unable to see his wife, but certain that it was she who was speaking to him. "Angela, where are you?"

_"That's not important." _For a moment, Jane felt a smile touch his lips. That definitely sounded like her. He could almost see that fire and spirit flashing in her eyes as she stared him down, demanding that he do something whether or not he wanted to. Ninety percent of the time, he ended up doing it.

_"You need to listen to me, Patrick. Fight. Stay alive. You've got so much to live for."_

"What? Angela… what are you talking about?" Jane frowned, "I… I am alive. Aren't I?"

He looked down at himself, scrutinizing his appearance. He looked solid enough. He could touch his shirt and feel the fabric beneath his fingers; he could see his chest rising and falling and hear his heart beating against his ribcage.

_"Barely." _Angela sounded worried and upset. _"You don't belong here, Patty. You need to fight harder. I know you can. Fight and live. For me, please. You've got so much to live for, so much more to do with your life."_

"I don't deserve my life." Jane hadn't meant to say it; the words tumbled past his lips before he could stop them. He'd given up trying to look for Angela and decided that this was either some strange dream or he really and truly was dead and talking to his wife. He hoped it was a dream… if this was real everything he'd built his entire life on came to a crumbling end.

_"Don't you dare talk like that," _Angela's disembodied voice snapped, sounding angry. _"You are a good man, Patrick. It's why I married you, it's why I love you and I always will love you. You deserve to live."_

"So did you." His voice cracked, his eyes tearing up. "Angie, I'm so sorry…" his trailed off, tears falling down his cheeks. "It's my fault, I… I should've listened, I should've been smarter. If I –"

_"There is nothing you can do that will change what happened, Patrick." _Her voice was gentle now, earnest and loving. _"And it was no one's fault but the man who took my life, the man who took Charlotte's life. No one's. Not even yours. You deserve to live again; to really live, Patty. You've done so much good and there's still so much for you to do. I'm not going to watch while the man I love gives up on life and I won't be the reason, do you understand me? You're going to fight and you're going to win and you're going to live. Because I want you to."_

Jane pressed his lips together tightly, wishing he could see Angela… even if this was a dream, to see her face just one more time. He'd give anything for that. "Ok." The word wisped past his lips in a quiet breath and he nodded, blinking the tears away. "Ok." He repeated, nodding.

He could hear the smile in Angela's voice. _"That's the man I fell in love with." _She said proudly.

There was silence for a long, long moment and Jane wondered if she had gone when he felt something soft and small slipping into his hand and he jumped, looking around until he spotted a familiar head of moppy blond curls at his leg, brilliant eyes sparkling up at him with a wide grin, missing her left front tooth.

"I missed you Daddy!" she smiled at him and his eyes swam with tears as he fell down to his knees, wrapping his arms around her, feeling her small body solid and warm in his arms again. This had to be a dream… it had to be. And that very thought nearly tore his heart in two as the tears fell faster.

"Charlotte…" he breathed her name quietly, pressing his hands into her messy hair, so much like his own. He'd never thought he'd get to do this again…

"Why are you crying, Daddy?" she asked, her small voice lilting and curious as she put a hand against his face, wiping away the tears. "Are you sad?"

Jane smiled at her, his words choking a bit as he shook his head. "No, Baby… I… I missed you too." He smiled at her and pulled her back to his chest, hugging her tightly, doing everything he could to imprint this moment into his mind forever.

"I have to go, Daddy." Charlotte said quietly, taking his face in her hands and staring right into his eyes. "Mommy says we have to leave… but we'll see you again one day. When you're ready."

Jane swallowed, wanting to protest, wanting to say he was ready now, but Charlotte was growing less solid in his arms. He sobbed, not knowing how to express any of the emotions running wildly through his body at the moment as he pulled her to him one last time and pressed a kiss to her forehead as she faded away whispering "I love you Daddy," against his cheek.

He sat there on his knees for a long time, tears drying on his face as he stared at nothing. He didn't know what to do or how to get out of the brilliantly white room, but he remembered Angela's order… He had to fight. Fight what… he had no idea. But he would do it, because Angie wanted him to. As he pushed himself back onto his feet, he heard another voice.

For a moment, he thought it was Angela… but it sounded nothing like her at all. He frowned, concentrating on the voice, hearing the words, desperate and earnest and… sad. He didn't want her to be sad…

_"Jane…? Jane are you awake? Jane? Can you hear me?"_

**~/.\~**

Lisbon sat in Jane's hospital room, in a wheelchair as per doctor's orders. It had been nearly two days, forty-eight entire hours, since he'd been rushed away and into surgery. Since then he'd been in a medically induced coma of sorts… And she only left his side when the doctors told her she had to go back to her own hospital room down the hall.

He looked so frail and vulnerable lying there on the bed and her mind just kept circling back the way he'd looked on the floor in that house. So pale, blood everywhere…

They'd ID'd the two other bodies a few hours later. Richard DeVouis and a man named Victor Redwood. They'd done background on both of them, but DeVouis was the only one with any sort of history. Redwood was totally clean. Married but going through a trial separation. He was a normal man working a normal job as a veterinarian in San Francisco. Not even the least bit remarkable. She couldn't help but wonder if this was who she thought it was… but the one person who could tell her that was currently lying unconscious in a bed next to her.

She swallowed back tears again and silently damned Patrick Jane to the darkest, hottest part of hell for making her worry about him like this. All the doctors would tell her was that he'd lost a lot of blood, would be in a lot of pain and needed time to rest and heal. That wasn't good enough; she wanted to know if he was going to make it, how long it would be before he woke up. She was _not _going to watch someone else she cared about die in some hospital room. She wasn't going to let that happen. Not to Jane.

The ringing of a cell phone – Kristina's phone – jolted her out of her morbid thoughts. She fumbled for a moment and grabbed the phone from the table where Kristina had left it before going to the Cafeteria to get them some food.

"Hello?"

_"Hey, Boss." _It was Rigsby. _"Autopsy reports and prints came back from the house. Rebecca's prints, Redwood's and DeVouis' were everywhere. And there were a couple of others… Brett, that forensic tech, remember him? And an FBI agent, Craig O'Laughlin. We're bringing them in for questioning, but besides the prints we don't have much and I doubt Brett's Red John."_

Lisbon frowned, "It could be the FBI agent, we'll see. Maybe Jane will be able to tell us something more when he wakes up…" she looked back toward the still unconscious man and frowned. "Keep me posted."

_"Will do, Boss."_

She sighed and hung up, putting the phone back on the table. They'd searched both of the houses, in Sacramento and San Francisco, and come up with half a dozen different sets of prints, traces of blood and human hair that were being analyzed as they spoke and some disturbing photographs of Red John crime scenes. Enough to build a circumstantial case against whoever they could place inside either house.

But at the moment, she didn't care about any of that. Her eyes went back to Jane, pale and vulnerable. She reached out and wrapped her fingers around his, squeezing them gently. He still felt warm, though thankfully this time there was no blood.

"You really scared the crap out of me, do you know that?" she sighed, shaking her head, her fingers tightening convulsively around his. "Don't ever do that to me again, Jane. Do you have any idea how scared I was? You can't die… you mean too much to m- to this unit." She angrily scrubbed at tears, muttering a swear under her breath.

Her eyes flicked to his face and she sighed, "And to me, dammit. You mean too much to me." The words were quieter, but spoken with no less ferocity as she frowned at his fragile form. His eyes scrunched tighter and she felt his fingers tense, gripping hers, and she sat forward.

"Jane…? Jane are you awake? Jane? Can you hear me?" She sat rigid in the wheelchair, watching him hopefully for any sign of life, of movement. And she got nothing.

Pouting, she sat back in the chair and sighed, "You'd better wake up soon." She told him, "I'm getting tired of sitting here waiting for you to open your damn eyes."

There was a short pause and then she heard a raspy response. "But it's too bright. I don't want to open my eyes."

A smile spread across her face and she leaned forward again. "I don't care, Jane. Your eyes'll adjust."

Slowly, he cracked his eyes open and a smile stretched across his face. That smile sent her heart soaring more than she'd really like to admit as she grinned back. "How long have you been awake?" she asked, "Sitting there listening to me talk?"

"Oh, not long." Jane said, his voice still a bit raspy and rough as he winced, lifting one tube-entangled hand to his face and tracing a line of stitches across the left cheek where DeVouis had cut him. "Just long enough to hear you admit your undying love for me."

Lisbon blushed and looked down, "I did not."

"Hm… are you sure? I'm pretty sure that's what I heard you saying… 'Oh Jane I can't live without you, I love you so much! You have to get better!'" He grinned as she smacked him lightly, rolling her eyes.

"You're an ass."

His eyes twinkled, "There's my Lisbon." He pushed himself up in the bed as best he could and looked her up and down, frowning. "Why are you in a wheelchair?"

"I got shot, remember? Saving your life."

"Ah… does that make us even?" he asked, tilting his head curiously.

"I suppose…" she hesitated. "Jane… do you… can you remember anything that happened when you were kidnapped?"

"I was kidnapped?" Jane frowned, glancing down at himself. "Well… I guess that explains the hospital." He looked thoughtful for a moment, some of the grogginess clearing from his eyes as they snapped back to her face and he got that intense, almost crazy look in his eye.

"Red John…" was all he said and she sighed.

"We thought as much." She said. "What do you remember?"

He frowned, "Richard DeVouis, he's the one who kidnapped me. He killed Alicia and James and he shot you and attacked Cho and then he kidnapped me."

"Alright, so far we were on the right track. What about Red John? What's the connection?"

Jane's eyes slid out of focus slightly and he frowned, "I… He's one of Red John's friends… Red John… he came to the house, he told me… he said he had more important plans and then he heard the cars outside and started to leave. I couldn't let him leave, Lisbon, I couldn't."

She nodded slowly, "I understand, Jane. Can you tell me what happened?"

"This isn't going into any file is it? I mean… this isn't an interrogation."

"Of course not. I'm not working here, Jane."

He nodded, "I… I got out of the handcuffs…" he swallowed. "And I attacked him. I was choking him, but he stabbed me and … I let go and he laughed at me. He started to leave again and I stabbed him. I shoved his own knife right into his chest." His eyes were distant and sort of sad looking as he spoke. "I watched him die. I watched the life leave his eyes. … And then Richard attacked me and… everything is really jumbled… there were guns and bright lights and …. I remember someone talking to me, holding my hand." He frowned, trying to remember.

"That was me." Lisbon said quietly.

His eyes snapped back into focus, "It was? …I… thank you, Lisbon."

She smiled faintly. "So… the man you killed… that was Red John? You're sure of it?"

"One hundred percent… What happened after that? Where's DeVouis?"

"Dead. He had a gun on you and Cho, Rigsby and Van Pelt shot him. We… They found a house just outside of Sacramento; it looks like Red John used it to train serial killers… We pulled five sets of prints. Rebecca's, DeVouis', Red John's and two others. We're running them all down now."

Jane nodded, chewing absently on his lips. "Lisbon… He's dead isn't he? I didn't imagine it?"

She shook her head. "Red John's dead. We have his body in the county morgue being processed now. We're bringing in the two other possible accomplices. It's over, Jane."

He sat back against the pillows, letting out a breath and frowning. "It doesn't feel any different, really. I expected it to. I mean, there's less weight, I suppose… But I don't feel like anything's really changed."

She eyed him sadly. "Nothing did change, Jane. An evil man is dead, but the evil he did won't ever be undone, no matter what. You stopped him from doing more evil though, that's something."

"Something…" Jane agreed faintly, nodding.

Lisbon sighed, shifting uncomfortably for a long stretch of silence. "I doubt there'll be any criminal charges against you. Judging from your injuries and all that happened, Hightower and the rest of us feel it's best to assume you acted in justified self-defense."

"What happened to arresting me if I succeeded in doing violence to him?" Jane quirked a brow, a new smile started to twist his lips.

She rolled her eyes, "Well, I never expected it to end like this, Jane. Next time you want to go after your blood thirsty vengeance, try not to get yourself kidnapped."

"Meh, I'm fine." Jane waved his hand in the air, pulling at the tubes and wires attached to it.

"You are not!" Lisbon protested, glaring at him. "Jane you nearly died! If that knife had been even a half an inch over, it could've hit your spleen and you would've bled out right there. You lost way too much blood, you had bruises and a concussion. You're lucky to be alive right now, Jane."

"Am I detecting a hint of concern in there? Were you really that worried about me, Lisbon?" Jane smiled at her curiously and she glared daggers at the annoying man.

"Of course I was, Jane! You're my friend, I care about you and no matter how miserable you make my life, I don't want you killed."

"Interesting…"

"Interesting? What's interesting?" Lisbon raised a brow, staring at him for a long pause.

His grin twitched and he looked down, lifting his other hand now, "You're still holding my hand."

She blushed again and quickly pulled her fingers away from his, pressing her hands into her lap awkwardly. "What's your point?" she asked evasively.

Jane watched her eyes lift up to his cautiously and couldn't help but smile. He'd always loved her eyes… such a pretty shade of green, that fire that sparked there reminding him a bit of Angela if he was being truly honest. Though Angie never had quite that much kerosene on her fire… He was staring at her for a long moment, not really aware of how uncomfortable she was becoming, before he looked away quickly.

"No point." He said, swallowing. "I… Just an observation."

Lisbon frowned, raising her brow and looking up at him fully again, "Patrick Jane are you blushing?"

"No. Of course I'm not." But he was, his face was tinged just a faint shade of pink and he quickly tried to find something to distract him. His eyes fell back to his left hand and he frowned, "Where's my ring?" he asked suddenly.

Lisbon blinked, surprised. "Oh… um, right here." She reached over and plucked a plastic bag from the table with his things. His wedding ring had been removed and placed there for safe keeping. She shook the gold band out and rolled her chair a bit closer to the bed, not thinking as she lifted his hand and slid the ring onto his finger gently.

He watched her in fascination, smiling slightly as she looked up and noticed him staring, a blush spreading across her cheeks again.

"You know… you look very beautiful when you're blushing, Lisbon."

"Jane." Lisbon's blush deepened and she looked away, silently cursing herself for behaving like some teenager with a crush.

"No, really, see." He reached out and lifted her chin, their eyes meeting. "It makes your skin sort of glow. It's very attractive. I can see why Bosco loved you."

She swatted his hand away and looked down. "Jane…" she warned, shaking her head.

"No, I know." He nodded. "No talking about it. I get it, really. It hurts too much."

She sighed, nodding and her eyes went to the sparkling golden band now back on his finger. "Have you ever taken it off? I mean… since…"

He studied the ring and shook his head. "No… I felt like it was a betrayal, I guess… I couldn't take it off. In my mind, we're still married. She's still my wife."

"Right, of course." Lisbon nodded, a sad look passing through her eyes for just a moment.

"She was the one person who ever seemed to be able to ground me. To keep me from just completely falling apart sometimes." He lifted his eyes back to hers again. "Like you."

"Me?" Lisbon swore angrily in her head as her voice squeaked.

"You ground me, Lisbon. Before I met you… Before I started working for this unit, I was a mess, really. But you wouldn't let me stay a mess and if it hadn't been for you, I'd probably have eventually ended up back in a State Hospital."

"Jane, that's not true –"

"Yes it is." Jane's tone had gone serious and Lisbon hated when that happened. Jane being serious, it was something so rare and so unlike him that it scared her sometimes.

He swallowed, "You mean more to me than anyone else… Red John said… he said that if I needed 'punishing' again, you would be who he would go to. It would be you he took and I… I couldn't risk that, Lisbon. I couldn't let him hurt you, no matter what."

His blue eyes were unmoving as they stared into her green ones.

She pressed her lips together and frowned, "Jane… what are you trying to say?"

"I have no idea." Jane laughed and his sparkled brightly for a moment. "Except that… I care about you, Lisbon. I care about you a lot. And I don't want to lose you; I'll do anything it takes to not lose you like I lost Angela." His voice cracked and she saw tears swimming in his eyes. "Anything. No matter what happens, I need you to know that. I care about you, and I will always be there for you."

She hadn't noticed it, but there were tears in her eyes as well and she swallowed past a lump in her throat, reaching her hand back out and taking his in hers. "I… I care about you too, Jane. I hate to say it, but I'd probably be lost without you. You're annoying, you're unprofessional, you're crazy as hell and I … I love that about you. I… I love you."

There was silence for the space of a heartbeat as her words rang back in both of their ears and Jane's blue eyes sparkled, his mind going back to Angela and what he had said in that strange dream-land he'd just been in. He was going to fight and now… he suddenly realized what she wanted him to fight for. His life.

He squeezed Lisbon's hand in his, almost as if trying to tell himself it was really there. "I love you too…" His words were quiet, but sincere and they rocked Lisbon to her core as she held tight to his hand, smiling at him and wishing she wasn't confined to that damn wheelchair and him the bed…

She couldn't think of a proper, romantic, eloquent response at all. So she smiled, held his hand and locked eyes with him before saying: "Good. And if you ever put yourself in danger like that again, so help me, Patrick Jane, I'll shoot you."

He grinned wide, that grin that made everything better somehow, the one she loved so much, though she'd never tell him that. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

Outside the door, standing by quietly, listening and watching, Kristina Frye smiled to herself and back out to give the two of them a few more well-deserved moments of privacy.

**~~/~~**

**A/N2: I'm not really sure how well that whole scene went *pouts* I hope I kept them in-character, but I just don't know… Please let me know guys!**

**I think we're almost done here… only one more chapter to go. Or, well it's really an Epilogue but same thing, basically.**

**Please let me know what you thought of this guys, please! All comments, criticisms and suggestions are much loved!**


	19. Epilogue

**A/N: Thanks so much to Time Lady 802379, KsandraMallan and MentalistLover for the reviews and thanks to Sophie Fatale for adding this to favorites! Your support means a lot guys!**

**And now I present to you the final chapter! I must say, I'm very proud of how well this story turned out, especially for my first Mentalist fic. I definitely had a great time writing it and I foresee many more fics to come if you guys will have me X)**

**Da dada daaaaa!**

**~~/~~**

_**Epilogue**_

_**~~/~~**_

**THREE MONTHS LATER**

The office was bustling with familiar noises as Lisbon sat behind her desk, a file open in front of her, pen resting between her fingers as she absently rubbed her side. Pens scratching, phones ringing, people talking, coffee bubbling. The everyday sounds of the CBI Serious Crimes Unit bullpen were soothing to her in their own, unique way.

It felt good to be back at work. Normal. Sane. Safe. Nothing much about the last few months had been anywhere near normal…

A full investigation had been done, more prints discovered, more houses uncovered thanks to interrogations from one Agent Craig O'Laughlin of the FBI and Brett Grainger*, Forensic Analyst. Several other members of CBI and other law enforcement agencies had been pointed out as 'Red John's Friends'; they were the people he had used to get information for what appeared to be years.

It was no wonder, after uncovering such a long and complicated network of killers and spies, that Red John had always seemed to be two steps ahead of them. His people kept him informed, destroyed key evidence, killed off threats. After hearing that their idol, the man they worshiped, had been killed, a couple of the women had committed suicide, one man attempted to break into Jane's hospital room and finish him.

Luckily, they'd rounded up every living person connected in even the most microscopic way to Red John and his network and were able to say with certainty that it truly was over. Red John was dead, his network was being shut down and all was well and decidedly _normal _in the Serious Crimes Department.

Except for one, small thing…

The brown leather couch by the window in the bullpen had sat cold and empty for three long months. Its normal occupant, the man who had been released from the hospital weeks earlier, hadn't been back to work once.

Lisbon's eyes couldn't help but wander toward the couch every now and then, being hit by a pang of sadness each time she did. She and Jane had seen each other a lot during their medical leave, of course. Hospital visits, long talks, interrogations and interviews… And after being released they'd moved cautiously closer into the territory of relationships and somewhat awkward dates until gradually they'd settled more comfortably into the realm of lovers.

And still, Patrick Jane had not once stepped foot into the CBI headquarters. Not once had his blue car passed through the security gates. Lisbon was fairly sure he still had his consultants' badge, yet it hadn't been used. He hadn't been to a crime scene, insulted a witness, interrupted an interrogation, gotten himself punched in the face or nearly gotten her fired in three very long months.

And damn it, she was really starting to miss that.

A tap on her office door sprung her out of her bitter and somewhat angry thoughts of Patrick Jane and she turned to see Cho pop his head inside.

"Boss, we're taking a break for lunch." He said, his dark eyes revealing a bit more than they usually did as he eyed her sympathetically. She'd been back at work for almost three weeks now and the entire team had quickly caught on to her undercurrent of unhappiness and did what they could to manage it.

"Alright," was all Lisbon said in response, letting her eyes drop back down to the file in front of her.

Cho hesitated and Lisbon was surprised. Usually, Cho had no problem being direct or forward or blunt or whatever people wanted to call it. This was new…

"You know he'll come back." He finally said, eyes unmoving as he stared his boss down.

She sighed heavily, "I don't want to talk about it." She said tersely, scribbling something down on the file in front of her to occupy her attention so that she didn't have to look at the man and risk revealing how truly upset and worried she was.

Cho sighed, "We'll be back in an hour. Want us to bring you anything back?"

"No, I'm fine, thanks."

Cho nodded and closed her office door gently before leaving. Lisbon sat at her desk, staring at the paper in front of her and wondering what the hell she was supposed to be doing for a long moment. She looked up through her blinds and watched Rigsby and Cho grab their wallets from their desks while Van Pelt slipped her jacket on, smiling a bit shyly at something Rigsby had said.

Her team. Her people. Good people for the most part. Sure they made their mistakes, but most of them were honest ones and they got the job done every time. They were the good guys and she was proud to be their boss. But looking out into the bullpen and not seeing them gathered around Cho or Rigsby's desk while Jane preformed some absurd magic trick seemed wrong somehow.

She'd grown used to his presence over the years, used to the arguments, the 'clever plans', the mind games, the odd tangent thoughts, the random facts… The bright grin, the sad eyes the mischievous glint in his smile. Damn it, Patrick Jane belonged here, she knew he did. But he wasn't there and it was simply _wrong._

Pressing her lips together she snatched her cell phone from the corner of her desk and scrolled through her contacts until she came to his name, a small picture of the man grinning at her from beside the entry. She sighed and pressed the send button, holding the phone to her ear and waiting.

Over the past few months she'd called that number more times than she had when they were working together… But it never ceased to feel strange to be calling him without having to say 'Get your ass back to the office now' or 'Where the hell are you?'

Though, to be fair she probably was going to demand a location from the man as soon as he answered.

The phone went on ringing and she frowned, putting it back on the corner of her desk and glaring at it for a long time.

There were plenty of times when she'd called and gotten no answer before, but not once in the last three months. She wondered what that could mean and suddenly found herself worried. What if something had happened to him? What if he were hurt?

Surely he'd exceeded his quota for psychos coming after him, hadn't he? She certainly hoped so because if she knew one thing, the next person to try and hurt Jane wouldn't be lucky enough to get shot or stabbed in the heart. They would suffer and she would make sure of it.

Such dark and bloody thoughts had never entered her mind before meeting Jane… She shook her head and silently cursed the man as she stood and flipped the folder closed, holstering her gun and combing her fingers through her hair.

Jane wasn't answering his phone… to her, that left two options and option two was that he was injured or dead. Considering she wasn't willing to even allow that option room to breathe, it had to be option one and so she grabbed her keys and hurried out of the office to find out.

**~/.\~**

It was a bright day, the sun shining warmly down from the California sky. Clouds drifting by in lazy wisps, birds chirping in nearby trees, green grass stretching as far as his eye could see. The beautiful day, the warmth, the happiness, it was all lost to him for the moment because the green grass was interrupted with the placement of many headstones dotting the landscape in an almost symmetrical pattern.

And he stood, lips a bit tight, eyes sad, hands shoved deep into his pockets, in front of two such headstones. Their names had been engraved neatly across the grey surface in one straight line. He swallowed and took a breath, eyes drifting to the sky for a moment before finding their way back to the graves before him.

This was what he had been avoiding ever since he'd been released from the hospital. Coming here, seeing their graves again for the first time since the funeral. He remembered that day as clear as if it had been yesterday. Some days it really felt like it had been that recent as the pain ached dully in his chest, guilt eating him alive. But now… now when he thought about it there wasn't as much guilt.

Oh sure, it still hurt. It always would, he knew that. But some of the guilt had died in that small little room in San Francisco with Red John. He felt like he had at least accomplished something for them. He had made sure that the man who took their lives paid for it. It didn't change what had happened, it didn't change how he felt. He'd expected it too, but honestly the whole thing was a bit bittersweet.

He'd killed Red John, the man was dead. But Angela and Charlotte were dead too and nothing would change that fact. Nothing could bring them back. He'd spent more than seven years hunting Red John, sacrificing everything in order to find and kill the man who had murdered his family. And now, it was over and it truly didn't feel all that different. But at least he was dead.

For the first time in years Patrick Jane had been able to sleep without fear or nightmares. He had dreamt of Angela and Charlotte in that bright and beautiful place many times over the past few months and wished he had the faith to believe that they really were somewhere so lovely, so peaceful. Able to be free with no pain, no sorrow, no tears. It was far better than the vast void of nothingness he expected was really waiting to greet them.

He'd never been good with faith or 'God'… Angela had. Angela carried a Bible around with her that had belonged to her grandmother on her mother's side. She'd tried to get him to believe as she did, but he didn't and she simply prayed for him. Sometimes he wished he did believe in Heaven and God and Angels because that would mean that Angela and Charlotte weren't really gone, they were simply… in another, more beautiful and perfect place.

He could still conjure Angie's image in his mind, her smiling face, her dark hair spilling over her shoulders, golden eyes glistening in the sun as she laughed. How he missed that laugh sometimes… He'd give anything, even his own life, if he could hear her laugh one more time.

He still talked to her, in his mind. Had conversations. But he hadn't since that day in the hospital when he'd dreamed about her and Charlotte in that white place. He hadn't told anyone about that because he didn't want to hear what they had to say about it.

He leaned against the headstone behind him and took a deep breath, his body trembling just slightly as he teetered on the edge of tears.

He stared at their graves and could see both of them, standing together, smiling at him, happy and free. Just like he had dreamed them earlier.

"I… I probably should've come sooner…" he said quietly.

He wasn't one for talking to the dead, despite all the years he'd claimed to be able to. The dead were dead and they couldn't hear what was being said, but those conversations with Angela had kept him sane over the years and he had to say what he was saying otherwise he'd probably never be able to move forward like he had promised Angie he would do in that dream.

"But I… I couldn't. I… I was scared of what I would see, what I would feel. You know how I am, Angie. I hate funerals and graves and …" He paused, his throat convulsing tightly. He looked down and took a breath before continuing again.

"And I didn't… didn't think I had a right to be here, seeing how it was my fault what happened. I know you want to protest, but it's true Angela and you have to let me be right, just this once because I know … I know that if I had listened to you, you and Charlotte would still be here and I wouldn't be standing here talking to wind."

He looked away for a moment, gathering his scattered thoughts. "He's dead now," he licked his lips and looked back up at the stones. "I told you I would make sure he paid for this and now… now he has. It's funny… I… Well I guess I expected everything to feel different once I killed him, but it mostly feels the same. Sad and empty…"

He tilted his head thoughtfully. "But… Teresa… Um… Lisbon, you remember her? She's probably the one thing that's giving me any sort of not-empty feeling…" He looked down at his left hand nervously and fiddled with the ring finger now absent of the shining golden band. He still wore it, around a thin chain at his neck, underneath his shirt. He couldn't bear to fully part with it, the betrayal seemed to run too deep for that.

"I… I hope you don't mind, Angie. She's a good woman, I think… I think you'd like her…" he smiled faintly and shifted uncomfortably, watching the still smiling faces of his projections and proceeding, soothed somewhat by the smile that was still in place on Angela's face.

"I… I came here to tell you all of that. About Red John and Teresa…." He trailed off. "I haven't been back to work yet… to be honest I've been scared to go back because… things are different now. I don't even know that I can do it without my own selfishness motivating me to work…"

He grimaced, hating the nervous knots twisting in his stomach. Not many things could make him feel this way, but Red John and his dead family never failed to unsettle him.

"I… I did enjoy working with them. They're good people doing good things, but… I – I don't know that I belong there. That I have a right to assume I can be there…" he frowned, his eyes saddening as he stared at the gravestones. "I don't know… I'm trying, Angela, I am. I miss you and it hurts but… everyday it gets a little easier to remember you without the pain. I can smile when I think about you instead of feeling like my insides are being turned inside-out."

He lifted his head and sighed. "I will always love you, Angie. But… I… I'm doing what I told you, I'm fighting. I'm… trying to move on, I suppose. I'm not sure that I'm doing a great job, but I'm working on it."

He lowered his head again and his eyes focused on the ground rather than the stones, wondering what else to say to them as he stood there, alone and sad and confused and maybe a tiny bit hopeful…

"Jane! Patrick!"

A voice caught his attention and he turned, surprised, to see Lisbon making her way to him, a concerned look on her face as she reached him and her eyes fell on the headstones, side-by-side.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, mostly to try and stop her from asking her own questions about his presence here.

She studied his face for a long moment. "You didn't answer your phone, I … thought I might find you here."

He was surprised to hear that. She'd gotten very good at being able to read him, he was surprised and maybe even a little proud of her for learning so well. He swallowed back some emotions he didn't want to recognize and nodded. "I… yeah." He nodded and looked back toward their graves, pensive and quiet.

Lisbon watched him and closed her eyes before continuing.

"It's been weeks." She said. "You promised you'd have an answer soon."

"I… I know, I've been thinking. I just…" He hesitated and his eyes went to the projections of Angela and Charlotte, both smiling and nodding encouragingly.

Lisbon frowned, "And?"

He slowly turned to look her in the eyes and smiled brightly, that wonderful Patrick Jane smile of his. "And… I'm coming back." He finally said, watching the lopsided grin spread across Lisbon's face as she breathed a sigh of relief. Her world was back on-kilter again.

"Glad to hear it…" Her phone started buzzing and she sighed, "Hang on… Lisbon?" She paused, looking unhappy as she waited for the other person to speak. "Alright, we'll be there in twenty minutes." She smiled, "Yes, Rigsby, 'we'; Jane's coming too. Yeah… Alright, get their statement and tell Cho to make sure Sac PD knows we're lead on this."

She snapped the phone shut and turned back to face Jane. "We've got a new case."

He raised his brows, "Well that was quick."

"Not so much," Lisbon shook her head. "It's been three months, Jane, killers don't quit just because you aren't working."

"Hmm… True. How many cases have you closed while I was on, uh, vacation?" he asked, easily matching her stride as they headed back to their cars.

"Plenty."

"Not one?" he raised a brow and she smacked him gently in the arm, unable to hide her smile despite the annoyance. Her Jane was back and that's all she cared about.

"Fifteen, actually." She corrected him with a smirk. "We can close cases without you, you know."

"Then why were you so desperate to get me back?" he asked, stopping beside his car and grinning at her, his blue eyes dancing a bit. There was no indication that he'd just been on the verge of sobs and she was sincerely amazed at how extremely well the man contained himself sometimes.

"Maybe, just maybe… I missed you."

"Aw, that's sweet… but you see me almost every day, don't you?"

She rolled her eyes. "I missed you at work." She clarified.

"Meaning, you need me because you're lost without me."

Lisbon tilted her head, still smirking at the man. "You know what, just for that you can pay for dinner tonight."

He grinned, "Don't I always?"

"Shut up." She rolled her eyes and got into her SUV, slamming the door and taking off, watching him with a smile from her rearview mirror.

Jane stood there a moment and grinned, laughing gently to himself as he climbed into the driver's seat and glanced back toward the graves where Angela and Charlotte remained for just a moment.

_"I love you, Patrick…" _He could swear he heard Angie's voice again, whispering lightly in his ear. _"Keep up the fight; this_ _is where you belong…"_

**~~/~~**

_**Fin**_

**~~/~~**

***I know that Brett, the forensic guy, was only ever named in script and I don't remember reading a last name so I made one up, just a quick FYI**

**A/N2: So… it's truly over… I hope you guys enjoyed this!**

**I really appreciate each and every one of you who reviewed, favorited or alerted this story! Especially those of you who took the time to review and let me know your thoughts. It means a lot to me and I'm very grateful for all of your support on this! I had a lot of fun writing it and I hope you guys had fun reading it!**

**Please let me know what you thought, as always I am totally open to any and all comments and criticisms that you may have!**

**I love you guys!**


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